Sparks
by thebiggestnoob
Summary: "The League's newest addition seems to be causing quiet a stir, Wouldn't you agree?" A thin faced nod was her only reply. "Heh."
1. A Temporary Respite

**Authors**** Notes: Just the common stuff for now, i don't own League of Legends Blah Blah Blah. WARNING: This Fic is OC oriented, if you don't like that no one is making you read this. The only other thing i would like to point out is that this uses Katarina's old lore. the lore that didn't explain how she got her scar. with that out of the way, Enjoy!**

Chapter 1

A Temporary Respite

The heavy oak door gave a long groan of protest as it was pushed ajar. A figure stood against crowded shapes and sounds of the Institute of War. A massive pillar lined room stared down at her, chill air seeping out of the archway that stood at least three times her height. The slim figure stared cooly back at the pillared room for a moment. Whispers escaped from the robe clad crowd as figure advanced on the room. The doors closed with another loud protesting groan, sealing the intrigue of the crowd out and the silence in. The figured continued its advance across the room its goal in sight. A large staircase stood defiantly at the other end of the hall, above it a smaller, but older looking, wooden door with a shining strip of gold at eye level. No natural light entered the room. Its windowless walls were lined with torches, a magical blue flame silently dancing atop each one. The figure paused, reaching the top of the staircase. The golden plaque sat on the door a few inches above the figure's eyes, the words brightly shown in the flickering firelight.

"The Truest Enemy Lies Within" was neatly engraved on it. A pair of sky-blue hungry eyes under short ragged raven hair stared at the figure from the plaque. A smile split her thin lips, and the figure returned the smile. Her hand came up, covering the engraved plaque as she shoved the door open. The door did not protest, swinging open and striking the wall with a thunk.

She stared through the doorway, her thin form immovable. The darkness glared back, a soft breeze shifting her worn brown traveling cloak as the thick air made a mad dash for the doorway and freedom. She stepped forward into the the door swung shut behind her and the breeze was still. There was a pause; no sound but the intruder's heartbeat. Footsteps could be heard, they echoed softly on the wall of the chamber.

"Why do you wish to join the League of Legends?" A woman's voice, soft but demanding, echoed through the black chamber.

There was a pause. The intruder stood silent, examining the question in the dark.

"I wish records of me to be made. I wish to exist as myself, not as another." The intruder replied, her voice noticeably higher in pitch then her questioner. There was another pause. The Intruder felt the ground under her feet vanish her weight suddenly supported by her waist and chest. Light flooded her eyes, she closed them to stem its flow. The sounds of a crowd, yelling in anger and despair could be heard. She opened one eye. She was in a valley, tall jagged mountains on either side of her covered in a blanket of lush green. The sun stared angrily at her from the end of the valley, casting long shadows across the earth. She turned her gaze down, buildings appeared. A small river flanking her left crossed by a wooden arc pitched. The bridge was new looking, painted white as the snow like the buildings to its right, made of stone with wooden roofs. A sharp pain snapped her back to attention, her eyes tracking a fist-sized rock clattering down the pile of wood she was atop. She remembered this, her eyes snapped to the people that surrounded her. Ionians- some sobbing, some frightened, most screaming and waving their fists in anger. She shifted her head away as another rock struck her cheek. She felt a crack, an iron taste flooding her mouth as pain shot through her jaw. She tried to move but couldn't, her aims tied at the wrists behind her back. A thick wooden beam pressed against her spine.

Her heart began to quicken as the realization of what was about to happen to her sunk in, her attention snapping back to the crowd as another rock struck her right breast. She recoiled, her binds keeping her still as pain shot up her front. She bit the inside of her lip, refusing to show any weakness as she glared at the person who had thrown the rock. She was a woman, about twenty with long black hair and a petite form, her face twisted in rage as she scooped up another rock and hurled it.

"Monster!" She shouted in Ionian, the rock meeting its mark yet again as the skin split on the bound woman's thigh.

"You took him away from me! He fought your black magic and you took him from me!" The Ionian girl advanced a step, her fingers curled, ready to claw anything in her way. The woman on the pole sighed loudly, looking at her feet. She felt horrible.

The crowd began to split. Her eyes followed the split and her gaze feel on an old man, wearing a white robe with long sleeves. He took slow, careful steps leaning on a thick wooden staff painted white, its top bent into a long elegant hook shape with a golden ring hanging from its curved tip. A box like lantern hung from the ring, silver and shining in the evening sun like a beacon. He raised the staff weakly, planting the end stiffly in the soft foot-beaten dirt, releasing a small shock wave of dust before he took each step. Heads turned as he approached, the crowd parting to allow him to the head. He halted with a slight sway. His staff seemed to be all that was holding him upright. The angry yelling seemed to float away down the river, and there was silence for a moment.

The man's lip quivered."What is your name, Demon," he spoke slowly, his voice strained and asthmatic, but soft as though speaking indoors.

She opened her mouth to speak, hacking out a few coughs. Her jaw didn't seem to want to move but she forced it.

"Fait-" she began.

"Noo!" The man shouted, his voice limping out like his walk.

"I asked for YOUR name, Demon." His lip quivered as he finished, more of his weight shifting forward onto his staff. Through the blood and the pain she felt a smile cross her lips.

"Celene," she half choked out. The man's expression didn't change, his old brown eyes looking into her pained blue ones.

His lower lip quivered and he spoke again, the tiredness in his voice audible. "Demon, do you name yourself, or was this name given to you by those cursed that bore you?" Her expression shifted slightly towards curious, her eyes shifting to the Ionian girl just a few feet from the man. she was glaring, as if trying to set the logs ablaze with her gaze. Celene scanned the crowd, their expressions were mirrored. A small sigh rose in her throat but she smothered it, her eyes settling on the village elder once again.

"It is a name I chose for myself." She paused, pushing the pain in her jaw into the abyss of her mind. "I was not born," she finished, feeling tired. The mortal body was at its limits. Pain, adrenaline and the feeling of death were taking its toll on her. Her whole body was throbbing. The blood on her skin no longer warm to the touch, the wind taking the heat away and replacing it with an almost soothing chill. The elder remained still, his face impassive. He shifted his weight back onto his feet, standing as straight as his back would allow. The action seems to pain him as his wrinkled lips pulled back in, revealing a few missing teeth. He held the staff out in front of him, towards the pyre. He looked back up at her, a hint of disgust leaking into his tired face.

He spoke. "You murdered the defender of our village. You are a monster that destroys and steals. You are past redemption. Welcome the fire, it will end your misery." The venom in his tone cutting the air like a knife, he stared at her for a moment, then lowered the staff. The lantern hit the logs with a metallic clunk, before tipping sideways, oil spilling out onto the wood and raging to life. The fire started to crackle and climb the pile of wood. There was a cheer as the elder turned his back to her and began to hobble away through the crowd. She let the sigh she had imprisoned in her throat free, not looking forward to the pain she know was coming. Not letting the panic take hold, she know she would live. But she needed to figure out what to do. She scanned the crowd. After a moment her sky-blue eyes fell on the Ionian closest to the bridge, the girl who had thrown the rocks.

Her stomach turned over. The ground seemed to fall away from her. The pain was gone, and so was the heat, the taste of blood and smell of smoke. It was cold and silent as the night. Her stomach turning again, she looked down but saw nothing but black.

The first thing Celene heard were voices, soft but rising in volume and number. As the ground pressed itself against her feet a crowded market street melted into view. She was walking as swiftly as the crowd of people would allow. She strained her neck to see over the shoulder of a broad-shouldered man who was inspecting some fish at a stand. Celene saw nothing but the maze of crowded streets working its way down towards the outer walls of the city. The city was circular and built around a large stone spire. Roads climbed their way up and around the spire, like vines climbing a tree trunk. At the top stood the wealthiest houses and government establishments, most of which proudly flew the Noxian flag. The rich or lucky had houses tucked into streets of the city below the great spire and naturally contributed to the Noxian rich market district in which Celene was now drowning. The poor, unlucky or weak all lived below ground in large slums. These slums had their own markets, schools, districts and as the spire is atop a cliff overlooking the open ocean open up to the sea, have there own ports. because of its social structure and value of strength above all else, Noxus was often derogatorily called the two-faced city-state by its enemies.

Celene wedged herself into the entrance to an alley, allowing an ox-drawn cart loaded with fish to pass by her. She ducked in behind the cart. the convoy acted like the bow of a ship parting the wealthy crowd in front of it as it made its way from the high Noxian port to whatever stall had ordered the fish. Though seeing past the cart was impossible it didn't matter. Celene was early for her "meeting", the other party not being due for nearly thirty minutes. Celene smirked.

_I guess robbing that poor merchant blind did help._ The expensive red and yellow silk robe see wore went a long way reducing the confused looks the Ionian got from the wealthy sea of residents, sailors and merchants. Standing behind a cart loaded with ready-to-sell fish reduced the looks to zero. She was invisible, at least until the cart stopped or ventured to far from her meeting point. Celene fell into thought, going over her plan again in her head. After studying the habits of the other party, Celene knew just where to be. The person in question seemed to eat different food then the rest of her family, avoiding the large amounts of fish in the typical Noxian's diet in favor of pork and beef from the farms outside the city walls.

_Perhaps she has a fish allergy? _Celene thought, a grin creeping onto her thin lips.

Due to the Noxian social mentality, she is also very picky about whom she purchases her food from, only buying from a wealthy farmer named Hamid, who owns the largest ranch within one hundred miles of Noxus. Hamid's stall is right outside the Finest of the Fleet pub a good mile from the first of the great spire's winding roads and two miles from the Noxus city walls. Catching her party in transit, either arriving or returning home, should be easy. A small doubt sprang up like a weed in a flower patch. The streets were more crowded then normal, full of sailors from the Noxian fleets regrouping after being pushed from Demacian waters. The doubt was quickly thrown to the wolves. This woman was easy to spot, even for a barely five foot Ionian in a city where six foot was the average.

The cart slowed to a halt, jarring Celene from her thoughts. She looked around, trying to regain her bearings. The cart had stopped in front of a rather expensive looking stall that sat at the point of a fork in the road. Following the roads with her eyes, she saw that they reconnected to each other after about half a mile. Celene recognized it as it was the only road land-side of the spire that rejoined. The Finest of the Fleet was on the road over on her right side about a quarter mile behind her.

_I can't be getting distracted_, she reminded herself, biting her lip as she forced her way through the crowd towards an alley that connected the two streets.

After a good shove or two and some racial slurs thrown her way she reached the alley and pressed on, walking quickly. Glancing about, Celene noticed the drains in the alley, light visible from within them. They dropped straight into lower Noxus- for rain, she guessed. A smirk spouted on her face at the thought of their other uses. The alleys were very devoid of human waste, even for a rich district and she hadn't seen a single peon with a broom in an alley up here since she arrived. Practical in the Noxian way, a human stepladder to glory on a massive scale. She wasn't sure whether she should be amused or disapproving of the idea. She settled on amused after a moment- after all, it's not the worst thing that's been done to people by the comrades before. She reached the end of the alley and was greeted by the roaring wave of people that filled last street. Celene grinned- success. The Finest of the Fleet was in sight. She merged with the crowd again and let the current carry her towards her goal.

Celene ducked into an alley, the pub was right across from her. A large number of sailors could be seen drinking, gambling, and watching the bar's single dancer. Celene watched for a moment through the large front window, her view interrupted by the shoulders and heads that passed by. She needed a way to see over the crowd; picking anybody out of it when she couldn't see over it would be impossible. She looked around. The alley hit a sharp turn a few feet behind her and on the wall of the curve was a gutter leading from the two-story house to her right to a grill on the ground that lead to lower Noxus. Glancing behind her to make sure there were no guards watching. Celene extended her fingers feeling her chest grow warmer as she woke her demon up, blue fishing line-thick strands extended from her finger tips. She concentrated, willing them to carefully wrap around her fingers just like she had done countless times before. They obeyed. It was times like this when she loved what she was she thought smiling as she got a running start. She hit the gutter, pushing off against the wall as the tendrils she has summoned wrapped around behind the makeshift ladder. She easily pushed herself up to the rooftop, sliding herself up onto the stone shingling. She carefully slide to the edge, being careful not to dislodge any roofing that may fall into the crowd and alert anybody. She gazed down at the sea of shoulders and heads below her. They pushed and jockeyed against each other, each trying to get ahead of the other. She smirked. _It's like a visual representation of politics,_ she thought. She rolled onto her back away from the roof's edge. While it was true the last place anyone looks is up, someone might see her anyways and call the guards. She frowned, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. She tucked her thumb into her palm, using her four fingers to measure the sun's distance from the ocean.

_Seven fingers, so it's about four,_ Celene thought. _She's late. _She turned and peered over the roofs edge, spotting Hamid's stall below her to her left. She blinked, scanning the crowd. Not spotting anything she reset her eyes on Hamid's stall. He was sitting in what looked like a hand made wooden chair, his heavy leather hat pulled over his eyes. _He's expecting her,_ she thought, watching the man inspect his fingernails out of boredom.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" A yell rose above the crowd's drone. Celene's eyes snapped to its source, recognizing the deeper than normal female voice. A tall slender woman with bright crimson hair, clad in a very expensive-looking black silk dress with pointed silver objects, lined the sides of the leather belt that hung half tightened around her hips. She was screaming at a shorter stocky man holding a bucket and gesturing to her shoes and skirt. The man held his left hand in front of his face in defense.

_Dressed to impress and armed to the teeth. Just what I'd expect from you, Katarina,_ Celene thought with a growing smirk.

"Fuck you, you useless lower-city weakling piece of shit." Her tone had lowered from a scream to a loud yell. Katarina grabbed the man's collar and threw him, lifting him off his feet and sending him into his stall in a surprising show of strength. She then planted her shoe on the small of his back and pushed, sending the man tumbling over the stall display, taking much of what he was selling along with him. The crowd had formed a ring around the enraged woman which disappeared instantly when she turned around to face them. She exhaled visibly to calm herself and half walked, half stomped towards Hamid's stall. Celene was grinning ear to ear, her chest hot as the demon danced in excitement over what what about to happen. She began to think. She knew her nature as a body snatcher. She was a being without tangible existence that instinctively forced itself into and possessed the bodies of others, leaving them ageless and immortal but trapped with no motor control, totally aware. She frowned, having reminded herself she was forced to imprison others, that the Ionian girl who owned her body was watching as she stalked. She didn't deserve what had happened to her. Celene began to frown. there was no justification for her, nor redemption the closest she could possibly get was by possessing the most corrupt or evil people, but in that presented the problem. Celene considered her options, she wanted the crimson-haired psychopath below her, but what was the best way to engage... She could just jump on her, and fully bring her real self, her demon to bare and force it into the redhead and possess her. However amusing the idea was, it was slow, loud, damaging and risked getting her killed and ruining her plans. Upon death, however, "Celene" would be returned to her base form and dart to the closest body. She had no control in that state. She frowned again at the thought. Without a body, there's none of the biological matter used to process anything such as thought or reason.

_Killed, _she thought. _I could get her body the same way I got this one. But I need to make it look excusable. Even if I get her body, if she gets thrown in prison for killing somebody, it would be hugely inconvenient._ Celene nearly slammed her head into the shingling for thinking something so stupid. _I'm in Noxus, she is the daughter of a Noxian general... _Celene turned her eyes back to the redheaded woman who seemed to be bartering with Hamid. Hearing them was impossible over the crowd. _So, I need to be direct, but not obviously direct. It's a good thing she's so angry today. _Celene smiled, feeling her chest start to heat up again. This was going to feel good, an idea spouted up in her mind.

She pulled her self away from the edge of the roof, sliding her way down the gutter as if it were a rope. She earned a very confused look from a Noxian woman walking the alley as she hit the bottom. Giving the woman a smile she pushed herself into the advancing crowd of people. Celene locked her gaze on the red headed woman as she passed the ruined stall she had created. She sighed, pushing her excitement away for the moment, wrapping her slender fingers around one of the buckets of water at the stall.

"Hey!" shouted the bloodied man behind his stall, trying to push after her but the crowd prevented him. Celene stole a glance at the bucket. It smelled like herbs. She looked behind her, seeing the man was in fact selling bath salts. The bucket must be some kind of "smell for yourself" idea. She turned her eyes forward, nearing her target. Katarina was turning from the stall, her gaze unseeingly passing right over Celene. She had a wooden box clenched in her arms and wore an expression that could only be described as murderous.

_She's still pissed. Perfect. _Celene's heart began to speed up, as her fight or flight began to trigger. They were within feet of each other. Katarina scanned the crowd looking for a way to merge with it and get back home. Celene's grin touched her ears. The possibilities- how ambitious she could be. This woman was one of General Du Couteau's two daughters, she was well trained in the arts of death. Arts that would carry over. No longer would Celene need to rely on just her own skills- it had been a long time sense that was the case. Angry orbs of brilliant green passed her over again. It was time.

"Excuse me, Katarina~" Celene spoke whimsically, swinging the bucket full of scented ice cold water backward. The angry orbs now snapped to Celene's blue ones. Her smile growing, she was close enough to see Katarina's brain comprehending the scene that was unfolding. _A short Ionian woman, in Noxus, with blue eyes is grinning at me and about to splash me with a bucket full of ice water._ The green eyes widened ever so slightly. Celene swung the bucket forward, covering the Noxian redhead from head to toe. People in the crowd gasped and backed up. For a second, the whole world seemed silent. Katarina stood, arms held up in front of herself defensively, the wooden box shattered at her feet. Celene wasn't done, she brought the bucket behind herself, setting up for a wide swing.

_Use those killers instincts, you bitch, get right inside my guard_, Celene screamed in her head, her demon screaming to life.

Katarina failed to realize what was happening in time, the wooden bucket struck her square in the side of the head. She half spun, her hand shooting to the ear that had been struck. She let out a yelp, stumbling a few steps before regaining her footing, swinging her eyes to meet her attackers. Celene stood, bucket in her right hand, with an ear to ear grin plastered on her face. The crowd had backed up forming a circle like before. The two women stared at each other as Katarina regained her ability to think properly. Then with an animalistic snarl she lunged, hands sliding to the neat line of throwing knives in her belt. Celene released the empty bucket from her hand, not waiting for it to start falling, her feet falling into stance, her body preparing instinctively for the incoming attack. She felt her chest burn like a wildfire, felt the tendrils erupt from her fingers. Katarina was now fully airborne. Her eyes widened as she saw the sudden change- this Ionian was dangerous. Cool thought returned, turning her rage to fuel for the coming fight. She had to adapt. Katarina twisted mid flight, pulling the first dagger from her belt and flicking it towards her now rather alien attacker with her wrist.

Celene noted the twist. Katarina was trying to get enough centrifugal force going for a good throw. She would have to move. _Up would be best, Katarina's first reaction would be to pan around looking for me should I disappear. _Celene focused, the tendrils at her fingertips peeled back along her flesh, and she began to vanish, staring at her fingers before she fully dematerialized, only to reappear about ten feet above where she had started.

The knife was on target. Katarina felt a grin coming as it was heading straight for her attackers throat. the dagger sailed through into the crowd behind. There was a scream as her attacker disappeared in a flash of blue light leaving only glowing blue fibers drifting to the ground where she had been.

Katarina was now very surprised.

"What the fu-" Something hard connected with the top of her head causing it to snap downward. A glance upward through a wall of red hair revealed it to be a heel kick. Katarina felt her eye twitch. She drew a deep breath, focusing her eyes on where her enemy was and disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke with a loud puff. She was behind her attacker now, arm already swinging downward with the second knife on her belt in hand.

Celene turned her head following the faint trail of smoke left by the shunpo. She cursed her reflexes as her head turned to meet an enraged-looking, knife-wielding Katarina. The knife struck home, embedding itself in Celene's right shoulder. Though it wasn't deep enough to cause any real damage, the force of the blow and the shock caused her to stumble. Katarina was ready, expecting another teleport any second. She landed neatly, swinging her foot between Celene's. Just as expected, there it was a flash of blue and she was gone before hitting the ground. Without even bothering to scan Katarina recycled the energy from her sweep and began to spin, her hands going for her belt. Celene reappeared behind the assassin at the edge of the ring created by the now panicking crowd. She locked eyes on her target. She was angry.

_Fuck it, if she kills me I get her, if I win I get her. No more games. _Celene bit her lip as she finished materializing. Her shoulder hurt. The knife had been pulled out, allowing the wound to gush blood. Katarina took the second step towards her spin, spotting her target. She allowed herself to sink into a state of hyper focus. Tucking a knife between each of her fingers, the death lotus was in full swing. She extended her arms and began to release, one knife at a time. Celene saw her chance. She had an advantage in mobility. It seemed as though Katarina needs time to set up a teleport, whereas she did not. Celene saw Katarina's eyes lock onto her and follow as much as her spinning form would allow. Her thumb and index finger released pressure on the throwing knife and with a snap of her wrist it flew out of her hand. Celene didn't waste time, vanishing again. She appeared off to Katarina's right and was instantly reacquired. Another flick of the wrist, and Celene was gone again. She needed some breathing room. She needed to interrupt Katarina.

With a pulse of blue light, she reappeared right in front of the assassin. Crouched down, the Ionian attempted to kick the assassin's knee in. Katarina had remarkably fast reflexes. She switched feet mid-spin, tucking her arms closer to her body to get them inside her attacker's guard. Celene spotted the large movement and thrust her arms up, colliding with the assassin's. Katarina felt her balance disrupted beyond correction. She began to stumble. Celene extended the tendrils from her finger tips managing to wrap one around the assassin's ankle. Kataina had managed to turn the momentum from her failed death lotus into a clumsy backflip. She was in the air again, but her enemy was off balance and exposed. She decided to all-in, swinging her arms with knives in hand up towards her shoulders. She spied her target and flicked her wrists, spreading her fingers. Celene was waiting for it and disappeared. She reappeared barely three feet from she had been standing. The knives flew into the now running crowd. Celene had Katarina just where she wanted her. She willed the tendril around her ankle to move, and it obeyed. Katarina yelped in surprise as her foot was ripped from under her, airborne once again. Celene orbited her around her head once before releasing, sending the assassin right though the front window of Finest of the Fleet.

And just like that it was over. Assassins weren't meant to take hits. Celene stood in the middle of the street, bleeding, tendrils hanging from her fingertips blowing limply in the breeze, uncommanded but ready. The whole fight had lasted maybe ten seconds. She squinted into the window though the dust and spotted the assassin. She had tumbled over the counter and lay limp against the rear wall. Celene watched her cautiously as she stepped through the broken window. Glass cracked under her feet. The assassin was still but her chest rose then fell slowly. Celene could hear shouting outside- the guards had been alerted. The plan suddenly felt foolish. She realized that even if she possessed Katarina right now, the guards would arrive before she was finished. Celene sighed, looking at the bleeding hole in her shoulder. The pain was worsening as the adrenaline left her. She had to leave and give up on the assassin. Attempting to fight the whole city-state of Noxus was a bad idea. She was wounded and Katarina was wounded even worse, so possession would do nothing to solve the problem. Celene felt the anger raising. as she reached the out-cold red head. she knelt down, pulling the last dagger from Katarina's belt. The knife sliced her finger.

_Fiddly little bastard, you need to be a fucking master assassin to even hold one, I guess. _She snorted to herself at the thought, trapping the blade between her fingers.

"STOP, SURRENDER INVADER!" Celene glanced over her shoulder, a lone guard had arrived. He pointed his pike at her. He visibly tensed at the sight of Noxus's best assassin out cold and bleeding.

"Fuck off, I'm busy," Celene said turning back to Katarina. The guard seemed to freeze up, unsure what he was dealing with.

"Seems a bit unfair that I get this nice unique scar and you get nothing, huh, Kitty," Celene mused. She was angry. angrier then she had been in long time. Angry at her plan for failing. Angry at her self for being stupid. Angry at Katarina for being to weak to kill her. Angry at the guard that imposed a time limit on her work. Angry at everything. The rage transformed itself into sadism as Celene furled her brow and drew the knife neatly down across Katarina's forehead to her left check. Her eyelids twitched as the blade split her skin. She was waking up. Celene pressed the blade into Katarina's palm and forced her fingers to close around it. She looked the assassin over quickly, noting the stream of blood flowing down the left side of her face.

"Now you're unique. Just like me." Celene glanced over her shoulder again. the guard was advancing his pike pointed at her heart. He was stiff, his knuckles white around the shaft of his weapon. She sighed and disappeared in a flash of blue. Reappearing on the roof where she had first spotted the assassin, Celene relaxed her muscles and stretched. Her chest was cooling down. She groaned as her back popped, eyeing the gutter. Without a thought in her head, she slid down it and walked to the next street over. The noise of the crowd had drowned out any sound of short encounter she and the redhead had. Silently merging with the crowd, she covered her shoulder and made her way to the city gate.

The ground fell away, her shoulder chilled and no longer stung. She was floating in black. Silent, weightless black.

The pain slammed into her chest, a puncturing hot pain. She blinked. It was dark. She could hear the rustling of tree branches in the wind all around her. The ground was cold and bare, as if trodden. Something wasn't right. She moved her hands to the source of the pain, they met something long and wooden. She gripped the shaft of a spear. If she pulled, she could just bleed to death- it could be barbed. Its unwieldiness made moving with it impossible. She heard the heavy thunk of boots against dirt to her right. She turned her head toward the sound, a figure stood against the trees. He was heavily built, standing triumphantly, wearing heavy leather armor, a brown cloth cloak around his shoulders and a large brimmed hat atop his short haired head. In his left hand he held a second spear, shorter then those used for combat, the point silver, the engraving shining in the moonlight, one side of the tip of lengthened and barbed inward towards the shaft. In his left hand he held a pole the length of his arm with a leather loop at the end, used for throwing the spears. He took a step towards her, his footsteps sounding as though he was walking away from her. She could see him advancing. Her vision was blurring, the color bleeding away. She was losing blood, a lot of blood. It felt strange, like a dream- she felt like she had no control and was being made to sit and watch the events unfold.

The man spoke, his voice like gravel under foot. "Gotcha, didn't I, you damn monster." It sounded muffled, as if she was listening to him talk past a closed door. She could feel the blackout coming on, she could feel death coming. She would die and be reduced to her instinctive state soon. There was a weight on her chest, the man was on top of her, pressing his heavy boot between her breasts. Celene barely made out a grin past his hat as he grabbed the shaft of the spear and pulled. Her hands shot to it in pain but he overpowered her. The spear was ripped from her, pulling insides with it as the barbed tip came free. She tried to scream, but no sound came.

"See, without all that fancy jumpin' around you're nothin' but soft. You think somethin' pathetic and weak like you'll beat me?" The man leaned in and smirked she stared blurry eyes back at him, no strength left to move. A dream, she thought, she began to feel numb, but her head felt remarkably clear. Death was a dull feeling, like being on the edge of sleep. It didn't feel right, the setting wasn't right. A smile crossed her lips.

"That's a neat trick, Summoner," she said with surprising ease. All at once, the world seemed to fall away, she felt her weight rest on her feet. The thickness in the air returned as the pain in her chest drifted away. She was standing alone, in a stone chamber, too dark to see more than a few feet. Celene curled and uncurled her fingers, testing for another illusion. There was none, she was in control. There was a pause, only silence and dust in the air.

A woman's voice from the darkness echoed on the walls. "Why do you wish to join the League of Legends?" Celene paused, turning the question over in her mind again.

"To break the cycle. To have a temporary respite from _my _normality, to feel different than I normally feel," Celene said, the smile creeping back onto her lips. Her eyes fixed on the source of the voice she couldn't see in the dark.

"How does it feel having your mind exposed?"

Celene didn't even have to think about that question, the answer presented itself on her lips.

"Exciting."

"Welcome to the League of Legends, Celene." she spoke stoically. A light appeared in front of her, a door had opened. Beyond it, she made out a hall with robed figures walking about. Some of the figures stopped and stared at her through the doors. Most of the faces were young, in their late teens or early twenties. The smile on her lips turned to a grin as she stepped through the door into the hall.

The crowd of summoners was growing slowly, whispering amongst themselves. More men, some women, and even a yordle or two, from every city-state. They parted, as a man a head taller then them and two taller then her made his way to the front. The man was old, in his seventies at least, with a whispy white beard, and liver-spotted pale skin, his robes a soft gray as opposed to the purple and blue of the others. He stopped in front of Celene, looking down at her with a ponderous look across his face.

"Champion Celene, I am Elder Summoner Marten." He paused, drawing a breath. "I have been tasked with familiarizing you with our institute as well as the rules of conduct you must follow as part of the League of Legends." The crowd was shrinking, a few mutterings of her name could be heard on the still air. Marten's stoic face cracked and split into a wide, friendly smile, he knelt down so he was eye level with Celene. She felt a pang of annoyance as his eyes leveled with hers, making her feel like a child.

"Well, now that the formalities are out of the way," he beamed, putting her at ease. "Follow me, if you would, and please ask any questions you may have." She suppressed a small laugh, something about cheerful old men. He straightened up and turned, shooing away the remaining crowd with a few sweeps of his hand. He took a step- his walk was surprisingly fast for his age. She had to work beyond her comfortable pace to match him. Marten took notice and slowed his steps. She thought, examining the hall as they strode down it. The hall was large, with arches on the ceiling similar to those she had seen in some churches, supported by thick stone pillars and draped with flags. The walls were lined with wooden doors, some larger then others and more magical touches, filling the hall with a soft blue light. At the end was another large staircase. A row of tall double doors lined the top of the stairs. On all but one hung a flag of a city-state. Demacia's door lay in the middle. She snorted, pondering the politics that resulted from its placement. Celene looked up at the summoner next to her, but his hood made seeing his face impossible.

"Where exactly are we going?" The question seemed to ring in the hall as they reached the foot of the steps. Marten halted.

"Exactly..." He smiled, examining her again. "Well, first we are going to the dining hall, I'm hungry, and you need to see it anyways." He drew a breath. She felt her eyebrow raise very slightly.

"Then I will show you to your room, you are not aligned with a political power, yes?" Well, that explains what the flag hanging doors are for. She thought as she opened her mouth to answer.

"No, I am not." He nodded slowly as he placed his foot on the first stair and began to carry himself up. She found her self slowing down for him now, his face stiffened.

"Well, after that, tomorrow you will be summoned for a test match, so we can make any accommodations you may need, then again for a practice match after that. The practice match is to teach you how a match on the Field of Justice works," he finished as they reached the top of the stairs. He pointed to an ajar door at least twice her height and wide enough for a small phalanx of solders to march through. From the doorway floated the smell of cooking meat and bread, as well as a large number of spices. Celene felt her stomach growl and briefly considered punching herself in the gut to silence it. Marten hurried through the door, Celene in tow.

Celene's jaw nearly dropped as she scanned the room. It was large enough to fit hundreds of people. The far wall was lined with vendors giving out food from all around Runeterra, but it wasn't the scale that surprised her it was the rooms contents. On the far right sat a large minotaur, towering over the table in front of him, on which roughly forty pounds of food sat on platters. To the bull's right sat a woman, clad in a purple dress that reached the middle of her thighs and a tall purple hat. The two conversed, the bull gesturing with his hands as he spoke animatedly.

She panned her head around the room a second time, examining everything. to her right between her and the bull sat two men and a woman, all in Demacian battle armour. The largest man was facing her, eyeing her and the elder summoner suspiciously. He had short dirty-blond hair, thick straight eyebrows, and a square jaw. The other man had long hair in a ponytail and his shoulder pads were straight and ridged instead of the rounded ones that adorned his partner. The woman had her back to Celene. She was much more lightly armored and with shoulder-length yellow hair. She seemed to shine unnaturally in the torchlight. Probably a mage, Celene thought, continuing her scan of the hall. In the center of the hall was a large crystal sphere that hung from the ceiling, about nine feet across, giving off a dull magical glow. Underneath it sat a young woman in a seafoam dress with long flowing hair split into to ponytails that fell across her shoulders into shades of yellow. Celene recognized the woman as Sona, a talented musician she had seen in a theater a few years ago. A yell carried itself across the hall, causing a pause in the chatter.

"Hey, newbie!" The yell came from a shirtless man clad only in boots, greaves, a single shoulder pad, and a silver crown. To his left was a white-haired woman with her face buried in a book. Celene felt a pang of annoyance as the attention of the entire hall shifted to her and the elder summoner.

"I'll see you on the fields tomorrow, newbie, then you can see a real warrior." his words slurred slightly. _He's likely drunk_, she thought, as he sat laughing at his own joke. Her eyes wondered away from him to a white-haired woman sitting alone in the far right corner. She was dressed very similar to Celene. Aside from the few pieces of Noxian battle armor on her person, there was a what resembled a large sword on the table in front of her next to her food, ragged at the end as if broken. The two women meet eyes. Celene noted the woman's eyes were a vivid amber, her face was ponderous as she turned back to her food. Celene's eyes followed the woman's gaze to her food, a prick of surprise as she realized the food she was eating was an Ionian dessert.

"Well, shall we?" Marten asked. He didn't wait for her to answer, hurrying off towards the vendor with the meat. Celene sighed and followed. Her course took her under the large sphere and past a table of ninjas, all of which eyed her curiously. Ignoring them, she gathered a plate of beef and some nuts. Moving to the next vendor, she stared at the sweets and gave into her sweet tooth.

"This hall is surprisingly empty," she said, setting her plate down next to Marten, who was wolfing down his food already. He paused to swallow.

"It was built with expansion in mind. Only stable champions and experienced summoners may eat here, but it's still mostly empty." He speared a green bean with his fork.

"Stable champions?" she questioned, pausing and raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, some of our champions are imprisoned here because they're a danger to the villages and city-states of Runeterra."

"And you use them in your matches, just like those that come in and volunteer. Very utilitarian of you summoners," she almost teased, the tone geared at getting a reaction. Marten glanced at her and smiled.

"Might as well," he smirked, shoving the impaled bean into his mouth. The two ate in silence. Celene was content to watch the other champions come and go. Some, like the bull, returned to the vendors numerous times. Others like the amber-eyed woman left after their first plate. This woman intrigued Celene. She had a very intense gaze, but seemed to be extremely shy. The two traits didn't fit. _What was the reason for this,_ Celene wondered. She watched her as she lifted her broken sword and left. The sword looked extremely heavy, but the woman carried it with ease. She seemed to lack a sheath for the odd weapon, understandably so, as she simply held it as she left the hall.

"Who is she?" Celene asked, her eyes turning to Marten.

"Who?"

"The champion that just left, the woman with the white hair and amber eyes." Celene turned her eyes back to the door, having cleaned her plate.

"Oh, that's Riven, the Exile. She's been here a while. Very complicated woman. She stood in the middle of the Noxian chemical attacks against Ionia. Probably the the reason for her white hair at such a young age. Well, from her reflection afterwards, she was appalled at the bloodshed so she broke her sword and defected from Noxus," he finished. Celene nodded in comprehension. A smile spouted on her lips as she looked towards the door the exile had left from.

"A Noxian solder with a heart. I'm guessing she's attempting prove something. Someone with her past probably wouldn't want to fight," Celene said, getting to feet, seeing Marten finish the last of his food.

"She doesn't want to, she's trying to reform the Noxian ideal," he said, getting to his feet. Celene raised an eyebrow.

"How, exactly?" They moved towards the exit.

"Ugh, my old mind hinders me, I don't fully remember. You could always ask her." Marten said. Celene nodded, happy with his answer.

_I've been here an hour or so, and already so many interesting people. _The thought put a smile on her face. This was exciting, and this wasn't the best part yet. She sped up her pace, Marten was beginning to outrun her. Celene passed the Demacian mage as she returned to her table. The mage was young, probably not out of her teens. She had brilliant blue eyes, unnaturally brilliant, likely linked to her magical field in some way. She wore a wide smile. The two exchanged looks. The mage opened her mouth to speak, revealing brilliant white teeth.

"Luxanna, we're leaving, we need to prepare for tomorrow," came a deep, overly noble voice from her table. The mage's smile faded slightly, her eyes flicking to the table, then back to Celene. The mage gave a tiny hurried bow, turned and half ran back to her table.

_Ohhhh, _Celene thought, her smile broadening as she turned over the event in her head.

_Soooo many interesting people._ She turned. Marten was waiting for her to catch up by the door. She didn't bother speeding her pace, as she would reach him before either of them fell over dead. Besides, he seemed excited to be showing her around anyways. Perhaps the Elder was procrastinating. As she reached him, Marten gave her a smile and turned to leave, signaling her to follow.

"Marten, is anything important happening tomorrow, besides my matches?" she asked. She was snooping, she knew, but snooping wasn't something that she was forbidden from doing morally. Marten gave a small chuckle.

"Probably not anything related to you," he said, teasing her, not giving her the information he knew she wanted. He sighed, his tone turning slightly more serious.

"Well, tomorrow, some of the Crownguard family are coming. They say it's to see how the League of Legends is representing Demacia." Celene cocked an eyebrow.

"But, the League of Legends is neutral, from what I've read about it. It doesn't represent Demacia," Celene pointed out, confused. Marten glanced at her, pushing the door to neutral champion living quarters open. He paused it, half open.

"We don't, but the Demacian champions do. The Crownguards' visit is likely to see how their kin have been performing. the reason could be worry disguised as business. They will likely want to see them perform when they arrive, which is a logistical nightmare for me." Marten groaned out of half dread.

"Heh," Celene said, putting two and two together. "I guess I know who my opponent is tomorrow," she stated, shifting her eyes to the pair of Demacian champions leaving the hall.

"Opponent?" Marten said, smiling. "I never said anything about an opponent."

"True, but you did say the league needed to gauge my abilities. How is that going to happen without someone to pit my abilities against?" Celene pointed out, watching the Demacian mage tail behind the soldier. Both noticed her eyes on them. The soldier straightened up, his eyes turning forward into a solid stare. The mage "Luxanna" put an even wider smile on. The two examined each other as she passed. Marten's voice tore Celene from the mage and back to the progressing verbal duel.

"You're a smart girl. I saw your reflection. When was the last time someone told you that you're smart?" He was smiling widely at her. Celene felt a pang of annoyance at the compliment, the seeming congratulations at the duel's victory seemed condescending. She ignored it, deciding to take it, as the man clearly meant no harm.

"You know Marten, I'm a lot older then you. Don't you think it's unfair to treat me like a child?" She jabbed at him jokingly. He laughed, gripping his stomach.

"I don't know about that, _young_ lady, I'm pretty damn old," he jabbed back, stepping through the door. The hall behind was lined with doors, each with a plaque of silver. She glanced at the first to her right- "Jax, The Grandmaster at Arms".

"It doesn't matter which room you pick, so I would pick the closest one to the rest of the League you can." Marten stated.

"So, like that one?" Celene pointed to a door with a blank plaque.

"That's not the closest." Marten raised an eyebrow, pointing to the door next to Jax's room. Celene twisted the knob on the door she had pointed at, defiantly giving Marten a smirk as it opened.

"Whatever," he said, returning the smirk. "I need to take the plaque though, to get your name and title etched onto it."

"What's my title?" Celene asked, noting he had not said a single word about it, but all the champions seemed to have one.

"I haven't decided that yet," he said, his smirk now larger then her's.

_Fuck,_ she thought. _Maybe I should have let him win._ She groaned in defeat as Marten removed the plaque from the door and tucked it under his arm. He began to leave.

"You can manage without me, the keys are on the table. Don't get lost looking around," he said with his back to her, waving with his free hand. She turned to the door next to hers. The plaque was blank. She panned her head to her other neighbor. Blank as well. She took a closer look. Thin scratches horizontally lined the plaque. Celene scanned the hallway. It was devoid of life. She reached up to the plaque and slide it out of place. It caught on the grain of the wood behind it. She wiggled it free and flipped it, examining the back. "Riven the Exile." She whistled a single note softly to herself. Intrigued, she decided to test Riven, flipping the plaque upside down then replacing it backwards on the door, the name once again hidden.

Celene pushed her own door open again, entering her new home. She pushed the door shut with her foot and scanned her new home. It was large enough to comfortably house a few people. It was bare aside from a bed, a bookshelf which was empty, and a cupboard for clothing she guessed. The room was lit by a small hextech orb hanging from the ceiling rather then the blue magically torches she had seen before. The room sported a small kitchen, after some inspection, she found the sink had running water. Something only royalty had access to. There was a small bathroom again with running water and a closet. It was an interesting combination of royal treatment and compact like a one room castle.

Celene decided the bed was worth a trying out. The traveling to the institute had made her very tired. Maybe a nap, she thought, beginning to undo the buckles on her worn traveling outfit. Come to think of it, this was the only clothing she actually owned. The League provided champions with an allowance, however, so if she felt the need for more clothing, she could buy it. The League's presence had caused a small town to spring up around it to support its trade and such. It started of just selling to the champions of the League and offering transportation. Over the nearly three years the League of Legends has been around, since its formation, the city had grown in size. It was still without a name, simply being referred to as the Institute of War in conversation. She shed the last of her clothing and threw herself onto the bed. She had never touched anything softer in her life. The world started to fade away and she fell asleep within minutes.

**Authors notes: This is the first fan fiction I've ever written. The idea has been floating around for some time now but only a few month ago while I was lacking internet did I actually work up the courage to finally write it. I don't claim to be a talented writer. Add a nasty case of dyslexia on top of that and you get what is likely a murder of the English language. Any reviews with advice would be nice but as for advancing the plot... I hate dead fanfics so if you like this I have good news. I already finished it before even bothering to upload. If you have any recommendations about ANYTHING please tell me. I'm going to do my best to put chapters up regularly once a week, maybe more. It really depends on my editor. I will try to reply to reviews in future authors notes within reason. I would really prefer not to get flamed so if your what ever reason you didn't like and don't have anything constructive to offer please keep it to yourself. Thank you for all your time, I hope you enjoy it.**


	2. Old Friends

**Authors Notes: Well here we are again. I'm glad the first chapter was enjoyable. Nothing to exciting to see about this one. Enjoy the story! **

Chapter 2

Old Friends.

Light poured in through Celene's open window. She rolled over, turning her back on the sun and burying her face in the pillow.

"Ughhh," she groaned into her pillow, digging her nails into it. Celene rolled towards the edge of the bed, sticking her feet out from under the blankets. She planted her foot on the cool tile floor, the chill scaring off the lingering drowsiness. She stood, shivering as she scanned her new room. A brown cloak was draped over the foot of her bed that hadn't been there before. It was a heavy, hooded traveling cloak, like hers but without the holes in it. She grabbed it and whipped it widely around her shoulders. It was larger then hers, reaching down to her ankles. A slip of paper fell from the folds as it was pulled free from its resting place. She bent down and unfolded it.

"Selene, I saw you wearing one of these yesterday and thought of a use for my old one. It's too small for me, so you keep it," she finished reading, her eye twitched slightly.

"Asshole misspelled my name..." She muttered, removing the cloak and leaving for her new bathroom. A bath was the only thing on her mind now. She advanced on the tub. It was large enough to fit two of her inside. Turning the knob, Celene was pleasantly surprised that the water was scalding hot. She stretched, letting the tub fill.

Riven exhaled slowly, stepping to the slow sweeping motion she had been repeating for the past hour. Her sword in hand, her muscles burned after an extended period of holding it at arm's length. She twisted her wrist and stepped into another slow, sweeping motion, her path drawing a neat square on her floor. She decided that was enough practice and sighed loudly. It echoed slightly off her walls. She glanced to her right at her full-length mirror. A woman, roughly twenty five or so stared back with amber eyes. Her stare was neutral, nothing afire in her heart, but it had enough natural intensity to be unnerving even to the Exile. She turned her eyes away. She needed something to eat she decided, the sun had started to pour into her window. The hall should be open by now.

She flipped her sword in her hand, holding it backhanded with the jagged blade tucked away against the inside of her arm. The weapon was stone and didn't hold the greatest edge, relying on weight and momentum to cut. She set it down and began to undo the deadbolts she had placed on her door. After finishing the fourth, she turned the knob and the door swung inwards. She retrieved her sword, tucking it away safe and stepped out of her room, pulling the door shut. She paused. The door next to hers, between her and the hall, was missing its plaque. The woman she saw yesterday evening must be the new champion. She pondered the woman she had seen. She was an Ionian smaller then herself. Because of Riven's involvement with the Ionians, perhaps it was best to avoid her. Her proximity would make that difficult. She was a petite woman with an angled face, thin shoulders, and an unnerving smile. Her body didn't seem built for combat. She didn't seem to train it in any really visible way. Riven guessed she was a mage and was unable to analyze beyond that, having no natural magical talent. She was torn from her thoughts as the door of her new Ionian neighbor opened with a creak. Riven blinked, her heart speeding up. She quickly ducked back inside her own room. She pressed her weight against her door, exhaling a long, slow breath, fully emptying her lungs. She slid down her door into a sitting position, her heavy stone sword clattering loudly to the floor. The idea of a social encounter with an Ionian made her insanely nervous. She listened, hearing nothing beyond the hard wood. She sighed.

"I'm acting like a child," she muttered to herself. Reaching up for the knob, she twisted it slowly, just until she heard the latch click free.

Celene sat in front of the Exile's door, her legs crossed. She had draped the cloak around her shoulders like a large blanket. She had heard the door slam shut upon leaving her room. Marten did say Riven was shy. Celene wasn't sure why she sat there waiting for her to come out again. It honestly felt rather sadistic. Celene had no intention of torturing the Exile. The door opened ever so slightly, and an amber eye peeked around the corner. Riven spotted Celene. The amber eye widened slightly in surprise, and the door snapped shut again. Celene frowned, leaning towards the door. Nervous breathing could be heard from the other side. There was a scraping sound. Riven bit her lip. "What the hell did she want? Why would she just wait?" Riven admitted she wasn't the most well versed socially, literally being trained as a soldier since she was seven. She pulled her sword to her chest.

"Are you okay?" The voice drifted through Riven's door, and she tensed up slightly. Why was she so nervous? The question screamed in her head.

"What do you want?" She asked nervously through the door. Celene smiled, she had expected more power in the Exile's voice after seeing her, but instead, her voice was interesting. It was on the deep end for woman, but had an odd pitch- a soft voice with weight.

"Nothing," Celene answered. "I opened my door and saw you dart back into your room." There was silence from Riven's side of the door.

"I can only guess how you must feel towards Ionians. I personally hold no love for the province- that's why I'm in this hallway," Celene said honestly, using Marten's free information to her advantage. She felt guilty.

"How do you know how I feel about Ionians," Riven said, sounding angry, Celene thought. Riven bit her lip, an annoying nervous tick she had tried to shoo away.

"I read about all of the Champions before I arrived," Celene lied. Riven forced herself to her feet. She pulled the door open. The two looked at each other. Riven stared at her questioningly. Celene looked back with a worried expression. Riven was doing her best to look tough- the reaction it got out of people made her feel safe- but this woman seemed totally unaffected. Celene got to her feet, moving slightly too quick for Riven to remain comfortable. Her feet shifted slightly towards a fighting stance, her knuckles whitening around her sword.

"Relax. Just think about it, if I had wanted to do something hostile, don't you think I would have done it already?" Riven relaxed slightly.

"Hughh," Riven sighed, feeling incredibly stupid. Her stomach growled. Celene smiled at her.

"Shall we?" Celene asked, gesturing to the dining hall with her head. She began to walk. Riven remained still, her eyes panning to follow the leaving woman. She was biting her lip again. Riven shook her head and forced herself to follow. They walked in silence for a moment, Celene's cloak billowing out behind her like a cape. The two of them reached the end of the hall. Celene pressed her hands against the door, but the door refused to move. She felt a twinge of embarrassment as Riven pushed the door open with her right hand. There was a small smirk dancing on her lips as she teasingly turned her amber eyes towards the smaller girl. Celene returned the smirk.

"So, what happens during the practice match?" Celene asked, now following Riven. The amber eye woman paused. She bit her lip.

"Hughh, well. A summoner.." she paused. "summons you to this place they call the Proving Grounds, and they sit in the back of your mind and explain how the League matches work and what to do, basically. Then, they have you fight another champion they believe to be 'balanced' and change the power of some of your skills based on what happens," Riven explained. Going over her first league match in her head. She stiffened at the thought of combat.

"Balanced?" Celene tilted her head slightly. Riven advanced through the door into the dining hall.

"I'm not sure what it means honestly. That's how the summoner explained it to me when I was first placed on the Proving Grounds." Riven bit her lip, then forced herself to stop in case Celene noticed. "But, they adjust your skills afterward. It's done through the summoning process, however. A lot of champions jump at the chance to fight in practice matches. Normally, the summoners pilot your body to fight other champions, its like you're possessed." Celene stiffened. "In practice matches, that's not the case, nor are the adjustments present." Riven finished as they reached the vendors.

The hall was nearly devoid of life. Riven paused in the process of taking her food, looking over her shoulder. Celene followed her gaze. Riven eyed a table in the far corner of the dining hall. Sitting at the table were the pair of Demacians Celene had spotted yesterday as well as Elder Summoner Marten and a man and woman Celene hadn't seen before. Both were dressed in very expensive-looking white clothing. The man had a coat with fur from some animal lining the inside, and the woman had a silk scarf, more for show then to keep her warm, and a large amount of jewelry. Celene turned to Riven, who was watching intently.

"The Crownguards?" Celene asked. Riven shrugged. The man gestured to Luxanna, whom seemed to recoil slightly in her chair. Marten sat, ponderous before he spoke. Celene couldn't hear him, but he pointed to her. Everyone at the table turned. Riven began to shrink away. Marten didn't motion for her to come. Celene nodded at him and took her leave. He stood along with everyone else at the table. They began to leave.

"You're going to be summoned soon," Riven stated, watching the party leave the hall. Celene watched them leave, wolfing down her food.

"Should I be worried?" Celene asked between bites. Riven glanced at her.

"That depends on what type of person you are and your skills," she said, taking a large bite out of the mooncake she seemed to love so much.

"Okay, let me rephrase the question. How did you feel during your practice match?" Celene had finished most of her food by now. She was a fast eater. She had needed to fight with others over food before. The habit had been worked into her. Riven pondered the question for a long time. She opened her mouth to answer then closed it a few times over.

"I was terrified, but when I actually started fighting, I wasn't scared anymore. I just don't panic in a fight. I focus. It's the only reason I'm still alive." She looked away, not comfortable with the amount of information she had revealed. Celene frowned. Something about Riven made her feel sad. Celene glanced around the hall. It was nearly empty aside from the vendors and the woman in the purple dress and tall hat from yesterday. She was eyeing them. Celene turned away from her, just in case she could read lips.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Celene said, lowering her voice and leaning in. She didn't wait for Riven to answer the question, only until she had her full attention.

"I'm not like other people. I would go far enough to not call myself a person. I get called things like monster, freak, demon, abomination." She paused. The topic was uncomfortable for her, but she felt the need to explain it to somebody. "I'm all of these things. I don't know how long I've been alive, I can't remember far enough back but I'm old, very, very, very, old." Riven was looking straight at her, listening intently. Celene frowned, the first frown she allowed the Exile to see.

"Because of my nature, it makes me hurt people that don't deserve it. However much I hate myself, I've learned over my long life to accept it, because there isn't much I can do about it, it won't change and I can never truly die," Celene finished. Riven stared hard at her. Her amber eyes felt like they were burning holes in her forehead.

"What are you, exactly...?" Riven asked the question slowly, her voice low and serious.

"If I knew exactly, I would tell you. I have potentially been around forever, and I'm pretty sure you're the first person I've ever told the truth to about what I am. As for your question, I've heard stuff like ghost or body-snatcher being used before." Riven's face didn't change. She was stoic as a still lake, her skin like glass. Celene raised her hand to her face, pressing her fingers on her cheek. "This..." She paused.

"This doesn't belong to me, it belongs to an Ionian girl named Earth I met a long time ago. My touch makes the bodies ageless. The worst part of it, they don't die. From what I can tell, they are aware. Earth can see and hear everything I see and hear. I sometimes say I'm sorry in the mirror, but she would never forgive me. I don't want her to," she paused. Her chest hurt, and she felt horrible.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Riven asked, confused. She leaned in. Celene felt her eyes tearing up. She hating crying.

"Because I want a person to judge me for what I am, not for the lie I present to them to stay away from the noose. There is no justice in my existence." Celene muttered, turning her eyes from the Exile.

"That's because there is no justice in this world. Just groups of people with different beliefs and morals trying to control each other. Morality is like clay, you can mold it into whatever shape you want with your hand, but it won't protect you from anything. My experiences in Ionia taught me that at the cost of hundreds of lives. Justice is a word used in place of retribution. You should not seek justice, you should seek peace with yourself and those around you.," Riven finished, running low on profound words. Celene sighed.

"That's why you're here, isn't it," Celene asked, resting her face in her arms.

"Violence to end the violence," Riven answered. She had finished her plate. She looked at the sad Ionian form in front of her.

"Sometimes, I don't like to admit it, but I actually enjoy fighting. It makes the real me feel alive. It's hard to explain," Celene said. Riven sighed. She hadn't expected the conversation to get so personal. She had just met this woman.

"Hughh. Can I tell you a secret?" Riven leaned in and asked nervously. Celene raised her head.

"So do I, deep deep down. I think it comes with this," Riven finished, placing her fingers over her heart. Celene managed a smile.

"I knew you were interesting the second I saw you," Celene said. Riven felt a wide smile work its way on to her face for the first time in a long while. Deciding it was time to change the subject.

"Have you ever been trained to use a sword?" Riven asked, pulling her sword from the seat beside her and slamming it heavily on the table.

"I've been people that have, but I personally prefer my natural abilities. May I?" Celene gestured to the sword. Riven nodded, hesitantly releasing her grip from the weapon. Celene wrapped her thin fingers around the weapons handle and pulled. She was unable to lift it. She tried a second time, managing to slide it about a foot across the table top. Riven actually felt herself giggle. She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide the sound and the blush that followed. Celene gave up. Riven wrapped her gauntleted hand around the handle, lifting the blade as though it weighed nothing. Celene pouted in response.

"Now, show me your 'sword'," Riven demanded, putting emphasis on the word without realizing how it sounded somewhat wrong. Celene smirked at Riven.

"I see you're a bit boy-stupid, huh? But, fine," Celene responded. Riven raised her eyebrow. Celene reached for her brooch. She paused, thinking twice, smiled, then held her hand out, thinking about the times she had fought in the past. Her chest began to feel warm. The glowing blue tendrils showing themselves.

"I can moved these like they were an arm or a leg. I can have as many as I want, make them as long as I want. They're strong, and and because of how thin they are, they can slice and puncture with ease. I can teleport. I don't know if it's magic, however, I just think about where I want to appear and I appear there," she finished, idly wrapping the tendrils around her fingers. Riven examined one closely. The League was full of interesting creatures with interesting abilities, so this was intriguing rather then surprising. Celene exhaled softly. The blue strands seemed to retract. As to where they actually retracted to, Riven couldn't see. She turned her eyes up to Celene.

"The Crownguards are likely in the summoning chamber by now, expecting to me summoned any moment." Celene said, standing up.

"Excuse me, all this talking has made me hungry again," Riven said as she turned towards the Ionian vender. Celene watched her walk away. She actually felt a twinge of impatience- she was excited. It was rare she got to do something she had never done before. She felt a wave of heat wash over her. Confused, she searched for its source.

"Celene, good to talk to you again. It's Marten," a voice in the back of her head sprang up. She could feel the mental connection between them, a soft pull in the back of her mind, tugging at her attention.

"I'm assuming you're summoning me now," she said out loud. She was hardly surprised by the method of contact.

"_Yep, you have no idea how much shit I had to deal with to get to summon you. You don't need to think out loud, by the way."_ Celene felt a tad stupid but she brushed it away. She saw Riven returning, more mooncakes on her plate.

_"So how does this work?"_ Celene thought to herself.

"_Like this, don't be alarmed."_ Marten answered. a Blue ring of light erupted from the ground around her feet. It pulsed with runes that began to write them selves along the outsides of the ring. It pulsed more intensely.

_"Hang on a second, summoning you is a tad strange. It's like I'm summoning two people. Don't worry, I don't want to brag, but I'm very good at this."_ Marten said. Riven nodded at her. Celene took that as '"Good luck, don't die."

_"Okay, here comes the no-fun part. It's always the worst the first time, though, this will get better."_ Marten warned. The circle vanished, and with it, everything. The hall, the smell of food, all sound and Riven. Everything was black for a moment. It reminded Celene of what it felt like to be bodiless, but she had the ability to think clearly. There was a sound, a buzz that quickly raised to an intense scream. She felt her feet hit solid ground, and with an audible bang, she was standing on a cobblestone platform. Her legs collapsed under her as she fell to her hands and knees. Her stomach retaliated violently. She gritted her teeth, managing to keep the breakfast she had just eaten. The platform was raised high in the air above a forest of pine trees, the branches blowing in the wind, though the air on the platform was unnaturally still. There was a large structure in front of her. A large blue crystal pulsing with energy floated above it, surrounded by eight robed statues. Each was holding a smaller blue crystal. Beyond that was a large stone statue that resembled a knight or a solder, lacking legs in favor of a circular base lined with glowing runes. It held a shield in its left hand with a blue gem in the center and a staff in its right. The staff was topped with another blue crystal. Beyond that was what looked like a bridge the other side of which was blocked by fog. She pushed herself back onto her feet and brushed herself off. The nausea passed quickly, and she felt completely normal.

_"Okay, so, for this, you just need to combat your enemy. Use all skills you have at your disposal if possible, even your nastiest ones."_

_"I thought you were going to explain stuff to me?"_ Celene questioned.

_"As it happens."_

_"Fuck, fine,"_ Celene sighed, her chest beginning to feel hot again.

"THIRTY SECONDS UNTIL MINIONS SPAWN," a female announcing voice boomed over the platform.

_"Minions?"_ She asked.

_"You'll see. I'm going to show you what it feels like to be piloted by a summoner, if you don't mind."_ Her limbs suddenly stopped responding and her vision began to haze blue around the edges. Her hand raised without being ordered to do so. Marten inspected her fingernails.

_"Very unladylike like of you to bite your nails, you know."_ he said snickering. Celene's body took a step. She could still feel her everything as she was walked to the knight-like statue.

_"Pretty simple, yes? You're in control again now."_ The grip on her released. She felt a tad dizzy. Blinking, she curled her fingers. Control was indeed hers again. She smiled at the irony behind how piloting worked.

"MINIONS HAVE SPAWNED," boomed the announcer. There was the sound of stone scraping on stone behind her. The eight robed statues raised their crystals high above their heads, magical energy arcing wildly between the large center crystal and the small ones. A line of short robed dolls assembled themselves from nothing in front of the structure, wielding what looked like toy weapons. They began to march forward, passing her and continuing on. Celene watched for a moment before beginning to jog along side the line of six minions, three of them with metal clubs and three with small wands.

_"That structure that spawned them is called a nexus. In a normal match, your team wins by forcing a surrender or destroying the enemy's nexus. The arena is mirrored, as is this one. The towering statue you just passed is called... well, a tower. It serves to guard your base until toppled."_ Celene didn't answer back, jogging idly alongside the minions. They passed a second tower. A third was in view, this one facing her with a purple crystal instead of blue.

_"Okay, so the tower's range is marked by the line of runes on the stone in front of it._" Celene noted the circular wall of runes etched into the cobblestone in front of the second tower as she passed it. She could see a line of purple minions approaching. The two lines ran right into each other. The minions began clubbing each other around, the wand-wielding ones behind throwing rather harmless looking balls of light. She watched for a moment. It looked like toy solders fighting to the death. An odd sight.

_"Try killing one. In a match, killing a minion, a tower, or a champion will award the summoner with 'gold' which they can use to buy items which augment your abilities. We aren't doing any of that here, but try anyways."_ Celene watched for a moment, nodding in comprehension. She spied a minion that seemed to be getting ganged up on by a several others. She released her demon, strands of blue extending from her fingers. She raised her arm and pointed at the minion almost lazily. The blue strand extended with blinding speed, spearing the construct. It fell to the ground and vaporized into purple ashes.

"Heh," she half giggled. Panning her hand to another one, she jabbed it through what would be its face. It fell as well and vaporized. Her wave of minions was gaining ground. She continued for a moment or two before her line advanced to the tower. The purple crystal glowed brightly before blasting the closest advancing minion with a bolt of purple energy. With a bang, the minion vanished. After a few seconds, the whole line was gone.

_I see,_ she thought. She spotted movement in the distance. A thin figure stepped out from behind the tower. The figure advanced, but didn't step over the line of runes that marked her tower's range. It was the Demacian mage. She smiled widely.

"My name is Luxanna Crownguard, the Lady of Luminosity and the shining beacon of the King and Demacian justice," she said giving a deep bow.

_Justice,_ Celene thought, remembering what Riven had said. Lux reached for a baton that hung from her hip by a metal ring on her armor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I represent the righteous flag of Demacia on the Fields of Justice today." She pointed the baton at Celene. She felt her chest burn, her smile turning to a smirk, then to an ear-to-ear grin.

"My name is Celene. I'm the monster that's going to ruin your day. its nothing personal." Lux tensed slightly, expecting the manners to be returned.

"Is that so?" She advanced a step, spinning on her toe as she spun her baton. An orb of twisting light flew directly towards Celene. She felt herself stick to the ground as it got within proximity. Drawing a breath, she disappeared. The light mage paused, scanning for her target. The only sound was the soft buzz coming from the twisting mass of light.

"Coward, huh? That's okay, many run at the sight of the Demacian standard," Lux said loudly.

"A coward?" The voice was soft, coming from below her. Lux snapped her eyes down. Celene was laying on her back, her arms crossed behind her head, neatly between Lux's ankles. She smiled up at her as Lux gasped in surprise. Lux slid her baton through her hand until she was holding it by its end, swinging it down with a feminine squeak, like a club. Celene vanished again, reappearing instantly. She stepped on the baton's un-held end as it struck the cobblestone with a clunk, pinning it. Lux stepped backward, attempting to retreat to the safety of her tower. Strands of blue climbed up the staff from Celene's foot, reaching Lux's wrist, and wrapping around. They forced their way under her fingers. Lux yelped at the sudden invasion of her personal space, stepping back again, attempting to rip her hand free of the strands. Celene blinked. The strands shortened, pulling the young mage towards her attacker. She stumbled, but kept her balance. The mage caught herself and let go of the baton, moving her hands in a circular motion, and swooped her arm at Celene. A line of light shot forward. Celene disappeared before it collided with her. Reappearing next to the mage, she whipped her wrist, sending a small barrage of blue strands towards Lux. The mage's eyes snapped to hers. Reacquiring her, she snapped her fingers and thrust her palms outwards at her sides, a glimmering sphere of light appearing around her. The blue tendrils struck the orb of light, bouncing limply off. Lux stepped on the end of her baton, snapping into the air, her fingers coiling around it. Not wasting the momentum, she spun, sending another twisting orb of light towards Celene. Celene disappeared again, reappearing at the edge of her own tower's range. She had to rethink her strategy. The mage seemed to struggle up close, but had range on her, and she could just retreat to her tower.

"Is all you do run and flick string at me?" Lux shouted from the other end of the battlefield. She was annoying, even for a Demacian. Celene broke into a smirk. She took a step forward. She locked eyes with the light mage. Her chest felt like it was going to explode. The demon wanted out. It wanted Lux.

_"Any and all skills, Marten?"_

_"If you please, Miss Celene,"_ he replied. His tone told her he was enjoying himself.

"Any and all," she repeated aloud. She extended her arms to their full length and spread her fingers. Bright blue tendrils exploded from her arms and back, flying in a wave at the mage. She felt her eyes begin to glow as she stared down Lux. Lux's eyes widened. She threw her baton towards the advancing wave, surrounding herself with the same sphere of protective light as the baton returned like a boomerang. The tendrils struck the shield with audible force. It held fast under the barrage of blue. Cracks began to appear. Lux noticed, leaning to her left and breaking into a full sprint as the shield gave in. The tendrils turned, following her. She dove forward into a roll as one managed to wrap itself around her foot. Celene flicked her wrist. Lux was lifted mid-dive and thrown a good fifty feet down the lane, towards the monster. Lux struck the ground and tumbled, managing to convert the kinetic energy into a backwards roll. She landed neatly on her feet, her baton still firmly in her hand. She swung it at Celene, sending another twisting ball of light towards her. Celene disappeared, appearing less then an inch from the mage's face. She felt her nose brush the Lux's. The mage yelped and recoiled. Celene grabbed the front of her breast plate and pulled her forward, putting her off balance. She opened her mouth and bit down on the side of Lux's neck. An iron taste flooded her mouth. The mage screamed in pain and surprise, balling her hand into a fist and swinging at the side of Celene's head. A wall of blue tendrils intercepted the blow, wrapping their way around the mage's fist. Forcing their way between her fingers, up her arm, under her sleeve, and inside her white silk glove. Lux gritted her teeth, swinging her knee upward and planting it in Celene's groin. Celene let go of the mage's neck with her teeth. Lux swung her head forward, her forehead smacking Celene on the nose. Celene's hands shot to her face as the mage took a step back and flicked her baton. A blast of light erupted from the end just as Celene looked up blinding her. Lux flicked it again and a bolt of light struck Celene, ropes of light wrapping around her feet and arms. Lux cocked her arm back and swung the baton. A small spear of light stuck Celene. The ropes brightened and exploded, sending her backwards off her feet. The monster tumbled, her new cloak tangled around her as she bounced once and came to rest splayed on her back.

"Ow..." Celene drew a pained breath and forced herself to her feet her vision blurred, her skin burning. Lux stood clutching her shoulder. The wound was staining her white gloves crimson. She glared, pointing her baton at Celene's face. Her smile was gone, her teeth gritted aggressively. The area around Lux began to dim noticeably. Her staff glowing brightly.

"Burn under the lights of Demacian justice, monster!" She shouted, the staff was blinding now. Celene knew she had to move. She disappeared. Lux scanned for her target. Spotting Celene to her left, she swung the baton fully extended at arm's length. Celene noted she was trying to point it at her and ducked inside her guard. The baton met her forearm. As her other hand closed around the mage's neck. A beam of blinding light erupted from the baton's end, just behind Celene's head, sending a shiver down her spine. The hair hanging too close instantly vaporized as the beam put a neat circular hole in Lux's tower. As Celene's grip tightened, Lux instinctively wrapped her fingers around Celene's wrist as her baton-wielding hand was pinned by Celene's left. The pair scuffled for a moment, but with her superior experience, Celene manged to force the mage onto her back, pinning her baton to the ground. Lux kicked at her, but her armoured boots failed to get the leverage needed to do more then sting. The mage was struggling to breathe. Tendrils sprouted from Celene's fingers. They wrapped tightly around the Demacian mage's neck and snaked their way up to her face. Her baton was pried from her fingers as they wrapped their way down her arm and pulled her fingers loose. Lux was struggling frantically now. Her expression had shifted from anger to panic. Celene leaned in, pressing her forehead against Lux's.

"What was it you were saying?" Celene asked with a sadistic smile. There was a pause. Celene lifted the baton away above them neatly with the blue strands that extended down Lux's arm. She loosened her grip, allowing the mage to breathe. Celene closed her eyes, exhaling through her bleeding nose, and released all of the heat in her chest in a long sigh. The sound twisted into an alien screech after a moment. Blue strands erupted from Celene's back, coiling around the two like snakes. Lux began to struggle again, screaming in pain as a blue strand forced its way into the bite wound. Some forced their way down her throat as Lux gagged. Celene fell limp. Her limbs no longer supported her and she collapsed on top of the mage. Lux bit down as hard as she could, the strands pinning her mouth ajar. They pushed, and she was forced to swallow. Her eyes squeezed shut. She could feel the strands force their way under her skin. Tears streamed down her as she began to surrender. She wanted it to stop. Something pulled at the back of her thoughts. It felt like an oil slick flooding her head. Her body burned in protest, but she had no strength left. She curled herself into a ball and the strands seemed to disappear down her throat. Her ability to breathe was returned. She spluttered and began to cough. A wave of convulsions and pain struck her like a landslide as her motor control was ripped from her.

"_Lux! are you alright!?" _Summoner Beyal barked in the back of her head. she choked out heavy sobs, unable to formulate clear thought. she tried to move her hand to wipe her eyes as she began to recover. the limb refused to obey. the fingers curled and uncurled on there own, lux felt a grin rising on her lips that wasn't hers. She began to panic. Beyal flinched as hysteria leaked across the mental connection. The summoner stole an uncomfortable look at Marten.

"LUXANNA HAS BEEN SLAIN," boomed the announcer.

"Gotcha," 'Lux' said, testing her new voice. She pushed her old body off of her and rolled onto her back, looking up at the sky. Lux watched helplessly through eyes that no longer belonged to her.

"_Marten, you still there?"_ Celene thought, running a silk gloved hand through her new blonde hair. She sat up.

_"Holy fucking shit,"_ Marten replied. Celene held up Lux's baton, examining herself in its reflective surface. She was covered in blood. 'Lux' took a moment to examine herself, running her silk-gloved hands up along her thighs. She made a face. She felt her stomach, sliding her hands under the armor, and felt her breast. She ran her fingers through her hair and felt her hips. This wasn't her favorite body. After being used to her old one, it felt too heavy. Lux was by no means overweight but Celene's old body was roughly one hundred pounds, but she guessed it wouldn't be hers much longer. Celene looked at her old body, laying limp beside her, still drawing breath. A twinge of guilt sprang up in her new heart. As sadistic as she was, she really hated doing this, but the League of Legends offered certain leniencies. The damage was by no means unrepairable.

"I'm sorry," she said aloud to Lux whom she knew was listening. "I'll return it in a moment."

_"I think how we're going to do this is summon the two of you back, so you can return Luxanna's body."_ A ring of light appeared around Lux's feet. The runes danced. She inhaled through her nose, relaxing her muscles. The world vanished all at once. There was a moment's pause. Celene tried to Imagine what Lux was thinking. She frowned. The ground hit her feet. Celene wobbled but kept her balance.

_Better than before, _she thought. She panned her head around the room. She was in a dimly lit stone chamber, shaped like an eight. In the middle she stood, Celene's body laying on the floor face up. Between the two of them was Marten and another summoner in purple robes.

"Luxanna," Marten said. Celene panned to him.

"I'm not Lux, remember?" Lux's body answered.

"I wasn't talking to you." Marten looked at her oddly. Celene understood, feeling stupid.

"Lux, we are going to try and reacquaint you with your body now, that must be rather terrifying, but it's temporary," Marten stated. He motioned with his hand to the body laying on the floor. Lux advanced on it. She wanted to get this over with, as guilt was starting to overwhelm her. She paused. The door to the chamber burst open. The large Demacian soldier ducked into the chamber, the two Crownguards in tow. His sword was drawn. He stared hard at Lux and advanced. Celene felt her new feet slide into stance. There was a heat in her chest. The soldier slowed and dropped his sword and pulled her into a tight hug, lifting Celene and her new body off the ground. His armour was cold and hard against her check, her arms pinned under his. After a moment he let her down. The man flinched noticing her eyes glowing unnaturally.

"I did not come to fight. We saw what happened." He looked over his shoulder at the Crownguards, both looked extremely worried, though the male was doing his best to hide it. Lux let out a sigh, her eyes locking with the soldier's. They were glowing brightly, enough to cast a blue veil of dim light over the chamber and the soldier. He took a step.

"My sister is okay, isn't she?" He asked. His voice was hard, but his face softened in the blue light.

"She's not in any danger, but _okay_? I can imagine she's pretty fucking terrified." 'Lux' said. Her brother recoiled. Lux and Celene spoke very differently. It was very strange. Lux eyed him, raising an eyebrow. It felt odd and she raised a gloved hand to her brow.

"Heh," she giggled, "she plucks her eyebrows, I'm honestly not sure why that's amusing," she said, turning her eyes to the wide-eyed Crownguards. There was a silence.

"I'm going to return your daughter now, alright? I promise it won't look like it did in that match, I was..." She paused.

"Excited," she turned her head to the body laying on the platform, her eyes casting blue light over it. She took a step and nearly lost her balance. Lux was proportioned differently then her. She regained her footing and advanced, kneeling down in front of her old body; Earth's body. Her eyes went wide, the breathing quickening as the body-snatcher leaned over her.

"I'm sorry, I know this isn't fair. I will try to work something out to make your life better. This won't hurt, I promise," Celene lied. She put her hand on her heart. The breastplate was in the way. She quickly undid the clasps and lifted it off over her head. The heat was building in her chest. She turned to look at the summoners and Crownguards, all of which were watching intently. She started to release herself. Blue strands punched their way out of her back. She arched her back and yelped in pain, her breathing quickening. The mass wasn't twisting and writhing excitedly it had before. It was waving in the air, like long hair under water. They grew in length and number. Minutes went by before Celene had fully removed herself from Lux's body. She felt her control receding. With the last of it, she lifted Earth and pulled her into a tight hug. The blue strands wrapped around the two of them. Celene thought for a moment, trying to figure out the least painful way to do this. There wasn't a painless one, but she settled on the ripping-off-a-bandage method. The strands all at once jabbed their tips into Earth's back. She arched in against Lux, gritting her teeth, her short nails digging into the light mage's shoulders. The strands receded into their familiar home, removing themselves from Lux. After a few seconds they were gone. Celene blinked. After a brief moment of lifeless bodylessness, she was now looking at the mage that had her arms around her. Lux looked rather shocked, her eyes wide. She blinked, then blinked again, realizing she was doing it. Celene got to her feet, prying the mage's arms from around her. She stood and offered her hand to the mage. Lux looked at it, then to Celene, who was smiling. Lux's blue gave her a glare back as she slapped the hand away from her, pushing herself shakily to her feet on her own.

"Monster." Lux said bluntly. Celene's smile disappeared and she let out a depressed sigh.

"I know," she muttered, turning her eyes, now brightly glowing, from the mage. She felt sick. A conversation was started among the Crownguards. Celene didn't hear it. Everything was reduced to a dull drone. She looked at the hand Lux had slapped away. A hand landed on her shoulder, turning to it, she was relieved that wrinkled and covered in liver spots.

"This is combat," he said softly. "You won and she's angry she lost in front of her parents." Celene turned to him

"Nothing about this bothers you?" She asked, her voice almost scolding. Marten's face didn't change.

"No, because you are unique. Monstrous, but with a heart- you try not to hurt people." Celene turned away from him.

"Only after I've already done it do I feel guilty, up until then..." She drew in a breath and she felt herself beginning to sob

"Up until then, I enjoy it." Marten's face was ponderous. He sighed.

"I think the compassion and guilt you feel makes up for all of the things you've done today." He let go of her. She felt a burning self-loathing in her chest. She turned her eyes to the light mage. Lux no longer looked angry. Could she just have been upset about losing in front of her parents? Celene straightened up, pushing the self-loathing away. There were no room for destructive feelings in her body. Her logic told her there was no way to act on them. They just resided in her as a punishment for existing, something she couldn't help. She drew a breath and wiped her eyes.

_I didn't do anything wrong, _she told herself. She approached the group of Demacians. The soldier turned. Looking down at her, his mouth was not visible past the breast plate of his thick armour.

"I'm sorry, I.." she began.

"Enough!" He raised his gauntleted hand to her face. "I will not lie and say I am capable of understanding your situation, therefore, I cannot pass judgment on you." He lowered his hand. "But, you clearly hold no hatred for Demacia or my sister, and as such, will not be treated as an enemy." He snuck in a glare at Lux.

"How do you know I don't hold hatred for you and your people?" Celene asked softly. Garen's face stiffened.

"Because, if you held hatred, you would not feel guilt," he stated and turned to leave.

"If that's the case, I am Celene." He stopped, looking over his large pauldrons.

"I am Garen, of the Crownguard family, the Might of Demacia and Leader of the Dauntless Vanguard of the Demacian Crown." She couldn't help but smirk slightly.

_What a ham, _she thought. Garen narrowed his eyes.

"I must prepare and tend to my family. It is likely I will see you on the Fields of Justice during your first match." He turned, his hulking form hiding the rest of the Crownguards from view as he left. Celene sighed softly. She was feeling a bit better. Maybe Riven was right. Peace over Justice. She pulled her cloak around her. It smelled softly of apples. She inhaled the scent and turned towards the pair of summoners.

The assassin lay on her bed. Her room was dimly lit, no light from outside entering past the bookcase she had pushed in front of her window. She idly flicked a throwing knife from her belt at her ceiling. The knife stuck in with a heavy thunk next to the others. Her hand fell to her belt, her fingers groping for another knife, finding none. She narrowed her eyes at the neat two inch group of knives sticking from her ceiling. The assassin sat up, releasing the wave of red hair that was trapped under her back and reached for the knives. She nimbly removed each and and flopped back onto her bed. She began to sharpen each before returning them neatly to her belt. The process took several minutes. She reached the last knife, pausing. She turned it over in her hand. There was a small nick in the blade that set it apart from the others, though it didn't really effect its use. The knife was special. She ran her fingers over the left side of her face, tracing a thin line of scar tissue that went from roughly halfway up her forehead down through her eyebrow, over her eye, and down her cheek. She couldn't remember exactly what had happened to her. She had woken up behind a bar counter with a number of broken bones and a neat split down the side of her face, the nicked knife in her hand. The fight before that was a blur of color, but she woke up to a Noxian city guard leaning in at her to see if she was alright. He said her attacker had ignored the people pressed up against the sides of the bar and him when he arrived. "She instead knelt down in front of you, took your last throwing knife, muttered something I couldn't hear and ran it down your face."

Katarina felt her eyes narrow. Turning the knife in her hand, she was bored, but it was too early to sleep. She growled to herself and rolled into her side, still rolling the knife in her fingers.

_I need to kill something,_ she thought. There was a sound and her green eyes turned to her door.

Tap, tap, tap, then a pause. The tapping resumed.

"God dammit, fuck off!" She yelled, flinging the knife at the door. It embedded itself neatly with a heavy thunk. A loud squawk of surprise came from the other side. There was silence. Katarina sighed and closed her eyes.

Tap tap tap.

Her eyes snapped back open. She rolled onto her back, groaning.

"Fuck, fine!" She yelled at the door, pushing her feet off her bed onto her feet. She stomped her way to the heavy door and pulled the knob. The door flew open revealing a nightgown clad, glaring Katarina with a belt full of freshly-sharpened throwing knives in one hand, the other white-knuckled around her brass doorknob. A large crow stood before her. The two glared at each other. Neither hid their dislike for the other. The crow cawed at her loudly and held out its leg. Two slips of paper were neatly tied around its ankle. The assassin groaned and knelt down. Her fingers fumbled at the string tying the notes to the bird's leg as she tackled a particularly annoying knot. The bird cawed at her to hurry up. She responded by slapping it on the side of the head. The crow squawked and lost its balance, flapping wildly as it got to its feet again. Katarina glared at it.

"Hold still, you fucking pigeon," she said through gritted teeth, pulling the paper free. The crow took flight the instant she was finished. It flew down the hall and out of sight. She followed it with her eyes before returning to her room and slamming the door. She unrolled the first slip of paper.

"I've been told there will be a practice match today, and I thought you would jump at the chance to fight without summoners bothering you. I already put your name in." She felt a smile cross her lips. An excuse to release the day's frustration, and a very good one at that. She crumpled the note in her hand and flicked it into the growing pile in the corner of her room. She opened the second one.

"Move your bookshelf." Her smile vanished. The note got the same treatment as the last.

"Fuck you, Swain," she growled. She crossed her room in two strides, planting her hands on the bookshelf. She leaned in and twisted it around, so the shelves were now facing the window. she felt her self snicker at what she had done. In the process she had gotten blasted by the chill wind coming over the mountains. The assassin shivered, her skin becoming covered in goosebumps. As much as she wanted to be lazy, the lure of possible combat was too much. She turned her head to the limp pile of leather armour and daggers in the corner. She sighed, surrendering, and leaned in. She stepped out of her nightgown and pulled the armour up off of the floor by the shoulders and shook it, removing the crumpled pieces of paper from it, before tossing it on her bed. She leaned in again, grabbing the tight leather chaps. She pulled them on and they squeezed her thighs tightly, keeping any excess flesh out of the way, allowing the most free movement possible. She strapped the belt covered in knives around her hips, letting it hang instead of fully tightening it. She lifted the chest piece from her bed and wrapped it around her stomach backwards. She did the clasps and twisted it around her torso so it faced the right way before pulling it up. Katarina bit her lip as she pushed her breasts into the front of the leather chest piece. She wiggled the armour slightly until it was comfortable, then did the strap over the top of her cleavage that prevented her breasts from simply falling out, should she be upside-down. She frowned. Why armourers insisted on showing cleavage was beyond her.

_Pigs, _she thought. Come to think of it, she really hated having breasts in the first place. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she swung the small jacket around her shoulders. She bent down to the remaining steel in the pile. She threw it onto her bed and sitting next to it. She took two long cutlasses and seated them on her hips before grabbing the other two and seating them crossed on her back. She pulled her hair out of the way, sliding more throwing knives into the holsters on her thighs and upper arms.

_Katarina, _a voice rang up in the back of her head.

"What the fuck do you want?" She said aloud, pulling a brush from her dresser drawer and plunging the bristles into the mass of red.

"_The draft has finished. We have requested that you serve as our team's middle lane champion." _She pulled the brush through her three feet worth of hair. She didn't need to answer.

"What time?" She was smiling.

"_Sooner rather then later. we are still doing legis-" _The summoner was cut off as she severed the link. She was excited. It had been a few days since she had been summoned, and that match was less then spectacular, as her summoner was inexperienced. Her smile vanished as she hit a tangle. Gritting her teeth, she forced the brush through it. She returned to her thoughts. A practice match though- there was a new champion involved. She felt the slightest bit intrigued. The match was going to be much better. She finished with her hair and tossed the brush into the corner with all the paper. Leaning forward, she pulled a pair of heavy leather combat boots from under her bed, the cleats digging into the wooden floor. They were easily the heaviest piece of equipment she was wearing. She pulled them on, putting her weight into the straps. She slid a boot knife into each, pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves, then stood. Her fingers wrapped around her doorknob and pulled it open, her foot cocked back, ready to introduce itself to any annoying crows that may be waiting. No crows, she stepped from her door and marched down the hall, towards the summoning chambers. Practice match meant there was somebody new, and the assassin was intent on meeting this new champion to see what she could learn- a habit that had been pushed onto her after the introduction of Graves, the Outlaw.

Katarina rounded the final corner between her and her destination. A line of simple wooden doors stood on the left side of the hall. New champions were always shown the summoning chambers before their practice match. It was done when she first joined the League of Legends. The only exception to this was if the champion was unreasonably dangerous. Some of the chambers were sealed of and used to house such champions. The easternmost chamber directly to her left was a good example. The chamber door had two boards nailed to it in a cross. Katarina leaned against the boarded door, sliding down against it until she was sitting. She wasn't there for long. A door midway down the hall opened. Out ducked Garen, an uncomfortable-looking Lux and two people the assassin recognized from the many Noxian military meetings she was forced to attend as two of the Crownguards.

Katarina was surprised Swain hadn't known of their coming, though it was possible he did and neglected to tell her. Two summoners left a moment after- Elder Summoner Marten and High Summoner Beyal. Garen and Luxanna spotted the assassin that lurked at the end of the hall as they approached. The Might of Demacia motioned for the Crownguards to stay behind him and Lux and continued forward towards Katarina. She snickered to herself, almost insulted by the reaction. For her to attempt anything would be foolish. Finally, what the assassin was waiting for. A figure she hadn't seen before left the chamber. The League's new champion was a small Ionian girl, all but her head and her feet covered by a brown traveling cloak. Elder Summoner Marten turned his head and spoke to her, then pointed towards the redhead at the end of the hallway. The Ionian looked up at Katarina, a small smile appearing on her face as she advanced. The hair on the back of Katarina's neck stood up- she seemed so familiar! The assassin stared hard at the approaching Ionian, wracking her brain for where they had met before.

Garen and his overly-guarded kin reached the entrance to the Demacian hallway. The two eyed each other for a moment before the assassin's green eyes fell to Lux. Something about her was wrong. The Sinister Blade raised an eyebrow as she noticed the girl wasn't smiling. Her face was impassive. For Lux, such a lack of expression meant something. Her eyes turned again to the League's new summoner's flanked introduction.

"Lux!" the new champion called after the leaving Demacian. Lux turned. The new champion placed her index fingers on the sides of her mouth and forced them upwards into an exaggerated smile. Lux turned, a small smirk now on her lips, and passed through the door after Garen and her family. The assassin cringed slightly. Even if she didn't remember who this person was, she could already tell they wouldn't get along. The newcomer stopped short of the Neutral Champion quarters.

"Hello, Katarina," she said softly. Katarina blinked in surprise. The newcomer extended a small hand through her cloak. The assassin's eyes fell to her hand, then traveled their way up the arm, over the shoulder, and to the eyes of the newcomer. They were blue, very odd for an Ionian. Katarina's brain clicked. The image of an Ionian girl breaking through the Noxian crowd with a bucket in hand and a wicked grin plastered on her face filled her mind. She felt her eye twitch.

"Celene," she said giving something between a bow and nod as she retracted her hand into the cloak.

"You two know each other?" Summoner Beyal asked. He was one of the few summoners Katarina tolerated. He was amusing and a very good pilot with her. They had shared meals in the past, though nothing of the sort recently.

"Old friends. I don't know if she remembers it, but I put her through a bar window some years ago," Celene answered. Katarina was instantly on her feet. The metal scrape of a blade being drawn was the only sound. Celene didn't move as the sharp tip of a cutlass pressed against her throat. Both summoners jumped back in surprise. Katarina stood straight, holding the blade at arms length, slightly downward. Celene looked her square in the eyes, her smile broadening.

"We were about to go eat." The assassin could feel her throat, moving through the thin blade as she formed the words. "Would you like to join us?" She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. This girl was completely not intimidated by her, or she was skillfully making the biggest bluff of her life. The idea made her even angrier. She lifted the cutlass and swung it down at the girl's neck, stepping into swing and exhaling through her nose. She stopped the weapon just as it met flesh, not leaving a scratch. The girl remained still, not a flicker of doubt in her blue gaze.

"No?" She blinked as though nothing was out of place, shifting her weight impatiently to one foot.

"Fuck you..." Katarina's voice was as dangerous as she could make it, leaning in slightly to emphasize the words. "Next time I see you, I'm going to skin you like a fish." She sheathed the weapon back on her hip and stood back at her full five foot ten inches.

"Suit yourself," Celene said and turned. Her back was to the assassin. Both summoners stood with their mouths hanging open as wide as a wizard's sleeve. Eyes flicked between the two champions as Celene, with some effort, pushed the doors to the Neutral Champions hall open and slipped between them. The summoners, not sure what to do and not wanting to be near the assassin at the moment, hurried after her.

The assassin was left alone. She wasn't sure how to comprehend how the newcomer had acted. She turned the event over in her head as she stomped back to her room. She could tell Katarina wasn't going to harm her before Katarina herself could, not likely, but she would hardly be surprised given where she was, or she was totally not afraid to die. She wracked her brain again. Her hand fell on the nicked throwing knife in her belt and she felt the anger flare up in her chest. She put her other hand on her face, feeling the long, thin scar with her fingertips. She noted how it stopped at her eye, then resumed at her cheek this woman was careful not put her eye out. She touched the small gap in her eyebrow that it left. She had refused medical treatment for it that day. It was a reminder of what happened when she failed. She had failed just now, as the woman had made her look like a fool. She reached the Noxian doors, but they opened before her fingers touched them. She halted. There, in her way, stood the absolute last person on the planet she wanted to see. He swung to doors wide open with ease.

"My lady.. Welcome to the Hall of Draven!" The man bowed so low his hanging mustache touched his boots. He motioned with his hand, twirling his fingers to add to the effect. Katarina felt her boot collide with the man's stomach before she could stop herself. He grunted and brought his hands to cover his gut. Katarina pushed passed him, making him stumble slightly and walked as quickly as she could without breaking into a run back to her room.

"Don't worry," came a rasping voice from behind her. "All the ladies want to kick it with Draven!" It took all of her willpower to stop herself from impaling the man. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this angry. Her throat was beginning to hurt as she reached her door. Practically kicking it open, she rushed inside. She grabbed the nearest object to her- a half-sized mirror she was to lazy to hang, so it simply lay against her wall- and hurled it with a scream. It left her room through still-open door and shattered against the other wall with a crash. She was breathing hard, her hands embedded in her crimson hair, pulling hard enough for her body to protest in pain. Tears began to stream down her face, the wetness on her cheeks making her even angrier. She screamed again, pulling her cutlass from her hip and hurling the sheathed weapon as hard as she could at the broken mirror. It missed, striking the wall and clattering to the ground. More tears streamed down her cheeks. She stood there in silence, her hands in here hair. Her lip began trembling. She bit down hard to still it. She couldn't let herself cry. Crying was something Demacians, the weak, and the dying did. She was spinning herself up. She needed to kill something, someone. It didn't matter who anymore.

"Katarina?" A voice came from her doorway, laden with worry. It was Summoner Beyal, a shorter, stocky man in his late teens with short hair. He knocked on her open door before stepping over broken glass into her doorway. She surrendered, pulling her head back by her hair, screaming again. _I must look pathetic, _she thought to herself. She collapsed onto her knees and turned her eyes away from the summoner. He flinched slightly, knowing that approaching her might be life-threatening. He knew her well enough to know that offering help might make her even angrier, but she had spiraled from a composed and trained killer to an absolute wreck in a matter of minutes. He backed up, not turning his back on her. Katarina heard a scraping and looked up. Her vision was blurry. Beyal was picking up the broken glass and placing it in the mirror's frame. He picked up the cutlass and slid the mirror's frame back into her room with his foot. entering, he placed the weapon on her side table and turned to leave.

"I won't tell anyone. If I do you can skin me." He smiled and closed the door. Katarina stared at the door for a long time. The tears had stopped, but she tasted blood.

_Blood.. _she thought, letting her go of her lip with her teeth, so more of it leaked into her mouth. She honestly couldn't tell which had made her angrier. She did, however, know exactly what would make her feel better. She reached for cutlass and put it on her lap, pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and gripping her elbows. She stared straight forward and waited.

**Authors notes: Well I hope that was fun. Just like many authors your reviews sustain me, like water and Top Raman. I really love reading those. Thank you very much for reading. Expect the next chapter next week, maybe sooner if I can properly bribe my editor. Tell me what you thought. Goodbye! **


	3. Welcome to Summoner's Rift

Chapter 3

Welcome to Summoner's Rift

Celene had excused herself early. She wasn't very hungry after her encounter with Lux, much to her surprise. Today was turning out to be a very emotional, very interesting day. She lay upside-down on her bed with her bare feet resting on her pillow and her head hanging upside down over the foot of the bed. Celene noted that her hair wasn't long enough to brush against the floor. Storing the useless information in the back of her mind to likely be forgotten later, she sat up and began playing idly with the blue strands that protruded from her fingertips. Celene twisted the into a pair of stick figures. The figures danced an old Ionian dance she remembered. They took each other's hands, placing their toes against each others so the hands of the other was all that prevented them from falling. Celene watched the figures. They stepped over each other's feet and spun again, one twirled the other. Celene's attention snapped to her door. Someone was standing outside, their feet casting a shadow under the door.

"Come in," Celene spook up idly, not waiting for a knock. There was a pause. The figure began to turn away from the door. Celene flicked her wrist. The dancer's partner vanished mid-spin as a line of blue shot itself towards the door. The strand wrapped around the knob, pulling the door open with more force then she intended. There, halfway out of the door frame, stood a nervous-looking Lux.

"Ohhh." Celene felt herself purse her lips and whistle a single long note. The mage didn't wait; she quickly stepped inside Celene's room and slammed the door with a snap of her wrist. She took a deep breath. Her smile was strained.

"I am," she paused, "sorry for how I acted. I shouldn't have said such things." The mage bowed and turned to leave. Celene inhaled and disappeared, reappearing with her hand pressed against her door frame, preventing her exit. Lux jumped in surprise with a small squeak. Celene eyed her.

"What you said to me was true. I know what I am; saying anything else would be foolish. It seems something so small to rush to me and apologize over." Lux averted her eyes for a moment. The girl clearly wasn't comfortable. There was an awkward silence. Lux was trapped; the girl wouldn't let her go until she got an explanation.

"My parents ordered me to 'make amends'. They don't want the Crownguard name to be associated with hostility," Lux said. Celene smirked at her, the girl visibly tensed. Celene let go of the door, she took a pair of long strides towards her bed and jumped. Her back landed on the bedspread. She resumed, conducting a dance of blue, the glow emitted lit the room very slightly. Lux watched for a moment before she pulled the door open.

"You know, you're more complicated than you try and make yourself look," Celene said, her eyes not leaving the display in her hands. "I should really be apologizing. I try to save what I did for people that deserve it, but somehow it always ends up getting used anyways." The Mage paused. "Are your parents upset with you?" Lux's smile faded. She knew her relationship with her parents wasn't the best. She did try to please them, however, deep down she wanted them to be proud of her.

"I wouldn't say upset- they were expecting me to win. I think they might have been if the battle didn't end the way it did." The mage looked down at her feet, her steel boots shining softly in the blue glow.

"Instead, they claim your behavior embarrassed them and sent you here to try and right it." Celene finished for her. She locked eyes with the mage, getting to her feet. She advanced on Lux. Lux gripped the door frame slightly. Celene ducked under her arm. "Well, let's go meet them," Celene said. Lux turned at the words and grabbed the hood of her cloak.

"Wait a second." The words were hurried. The monster looked over her shoulder.

"You know," Celene said with a smirk, "I've been lying as long as I've been alive, I feel you deserve a bit of honesty." Celene's expression become more serious. "I hold no love for anything- I am no exception. That is why your words stung. Because I want to be something I'm not. Now, let's go meet your parents." Celene grabbed Lux by the wrist and pulled her. She resisted, causing the monster to pause. Celene glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. Lux sighed and surrendered.

_Maybe it won't look as bad if they see she dragged me, _she thought, though she didn't want to spend any more time with her parents, but this woman was very insistent. Celene knew she was delving deep into Lux's personal life. Her entire reasoning was to find out why the girl was so uncomfortable. She pressed her shoulder against the heavy oak door, pushing it open and sliding through, Lux in tow. Summoners from the bottom of the stares looked at them oddly as Celene and Lux emerged from the hall, only to turn and enter the Demacian one. Inside, the halls looked the same aside from the increase in numbers of flags. Celene scanned. Lux was struggling slightly, but she ignored her. Her eyes fell on her target- a door marked Luxanna. She wrapped her fingers around the knob and twisted. The door swung open and Celene paused. The room was devoid of Demacians, but littered with books, items of clothing both unmentionable and normal, most of it either white or pink. Her bed was unmade and the blanket discarded on the floor. There was an upturned hat stand in the corner and the scent of cherries wafted out of the room. Celene looked over her shoulder at a bright red Lux with a wide smirk before she closed the door and turned. Dragging the mage behind her, she searched for Garen's room. Lux pulled at her wrist trying to get free. Celene tightened her grip momentary, basically saying "stop." She didn't want to run into her brother like this.

"They have their own room," she finally spoke. Celene stopped, loosing her grip on the mage's wrist. She was actually expecting them to, though Lux was unlikely to tell her where without some motivation. Celene had no code she had to keep, nothing to hide. Lux, on the other hand, was a teenage girl with parental issues that had to stand in a spotlight and represent an idea. Simple embarrassment would do just fine.

"Like I said, I should be the one apologizing. Now, where are there rooms?" Celene asked, releasing the mage. Lux's eyes flicked to her door, then back to her "captor" gauging whether or not she could reach it. Celene smirked. Half of her wanted the mage to run.

"You don't want me to talk to them?" Celene leaned in slightly and asked. Lux slowly shook her head. Celene's smile grew. "Why not?" Lux knew she was backed into a corner. There was no escaping the question. Her eyes snapped to her door again. She pushed the idea, knowing that if she ran, Celene would either teleport into her room after her and drag her out, or just leave and knock on every door in the hall until she found what she wanted.

"They don't hold a high opinion of you," she continued. She looked up and down the hall, making sure nobody was there.

"And why is that?" Lux groaned and pulled her hair. She grabbed Celene by her hood, pulling her into her room and slammed the door. Lux exhaled softly, her image safe from spying eyes. "Why don't they hold a high opinion of me, Luxanna?" She spoke in an authoritarian manner.

"Please don't use my full name. If you're going to probe information out of me, at least treat me like an adult." Lux had her back to Celene, looking out her window. Celene's smirk softened into a small smile. Lux began to kick clothing out of Celene's line of sight. She was doing it as if hoping the monster wouldn't notice.

"If you're so embarrassed by it, why don't you just clean it?" Celene asked, her attention turning away from her goal towards the mage's behavior. "You act like I've never seen a bra before," Celene teased, lifting the white lacy object from the top off Lux's bookshelf. Lux whirled around her expression a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

"Because I have a reputation I'm supposed to be keeping!" Lux yelled, snatching the item from Celene's hand. Celene took a step backwards. "You are the most insufferable human being I have ever met, diving into other's lives without a care in the world. People are entitled to their own fucking problems." The mage advanced a step. Celene understood- the room was messy out of rebelliousness. "You don't understand what it's like, I'm a fucking object! I can't do anything without someone questioning whether or not it's right for Demacia!" She spat the name out as if it were a bug she swallowed by mistake. "I can't eat certain food, study foreign culture, talk to boys, learn to dance. Smile, smile, smile." Lux stomped her foot. "The whole reason I'm in this fucking place is so I can represent some idea." Lux throw her arms up. Advancing another step, she was within arms length of Celene now. Lux's eyes widened, realizing what she had said. She sighed and lowered her head. Celene took a step forward and put her arms around Lux's shoulders, reaching up slightly to do so. The mage sniffed slightly, returning the hug. "You're the only one that knows..." Lux muttered.

"You'll have to kill me, then," Celene joked softly. Lux snorted at the joke, snuffling again. "I wasn't expecting to make such a splash; I show up and people's lives explode all around me."

"That's because you're nosy," Lux commented, releasing her arms from Celene. "But I bet, given what you are, it pays to be nosy, doesn't it?" Celene was unsure whether that was a joke or a jab. She felt a bit guilty for invading the girl's privacy, but she ignored it now.

"What did they say to you?" Celene looked Lux square in the eyes and asked. She wondered if this justified cracking skulls or not. She mused at the idea of strangling the male Crownguard with his fuzzy white scarf, remembering why she and Katarina were so alike. Lux didn't like the question. She sniffed again and looked away.

"They said I was a failure- not because I lost, but because I curled up like a child and cried. 'How can you be a symbol if you snivel at death like a coward?'" She stomped her foot. "They don't understand what that felt like! It was like I was being raped." She was yelling again, her voice stilled, remember see was talking to the person that had put her through the experience in the first place. Celene looked away, feeling ashamed. The monster bit her lip and sighed.

"I'm sorry, I can't say anything, besides I feel horrible," Celene said. Lux looked at her, her face stiff.

"I'm not angry at you, but I hope I can trust you." Lux said stiffly. "I don't understand how you did it... You cracked me like an egg. I've been tortured by my own men during training; I was tortured when I was thirteen and didn't say a word. But then you stroll along, sticking your head in my life like some kind of snooping ostrich and I break down." She put her face in her white silken gloved hands.

"Lux, I have been alive longer then I can fathom. When somebody says immortality, people don't really comprehend how _long _that is. I have met people _much _worse then you in similar situations. On top of that, I'm basically a walking pile of secrets told to me by others." Lux looked up at her. Celene looked at her hands.

"You know people squander their lives seeking what you have," Lux said, not stopping to think about changing the subject. Celene shifted her eyes uncomfortably away from Lux.

"I have no doubt I will see the day when everybody is like me and I'm no longer special, but when you don't die, that doesn't mean you don't value time. The faces, the memories, bleed away into nothing. Everything is temporary, so in that, you can trust me. What I've seen here will float away before anyone finds out," Celene finished. The sound of heavy armoured footsteps outside leaked through the door and Celene snapped her attention behind her.

"It's Garen," Lux whispered, her face lit up in worry of getting caught. Celene nodded; she wanted to help. Right now, all she could do is not exist- that would do. She disappeared in a flash of blue light, reappearing in Lux's bathroom. There was a heavy metallic rap on the door. Lux opened it. Garen stood taller then her doorway. His eyes narrowed, noting her eyes were swollen, as if she was crying. His face was as sympathetic as his hard features would allow.

"I told her," Lux muttered.

"And?" Garen knelt down, his armoured knee making a loud thunk as it touched the floor.

"What she did was because of the League, you're right about her. She's a monster, she's terrifying, but she means no harm." Celene felt herself frown- why did being called terrifying bother her? "And what of mother and father?" Lux asked.

"They are departing tomorrow." Garen looked behind him, making sure no one was there. "I'm sure I'm as thankful as you are." Lux thrust herself forward and hugged him. He was as sharp as a brick, a soldier, a massive ham, but he was also her brother. Lux thought as the hard armour she remembered from when she was a child pressed against her face. Garen put a gauntleted hand around her shoulders. "I must leave, Luxanna, the summoners say the match will be starting soon." She stood and turned to leave. "Today, we represent nothing, cheer for me Luxanna." The door closed. Garen sighed and began to march back to his quarters.

Celene poked her head out of Lux's bathroom. "You're rather quick to be sneaky, you know. You ever hide any boys in here?" Lux jumped slightly, not realizing Celene was still in her room. She turned a shade of cherry red, her eyes widening.

"Never! You're so nosy." She crossed her arms at her chest. Celene smirked and raised her eyebrow at the mage. The blush intensified. "Okay.. Yes."

"Does this still happen?" Celene knew she was going too far, but didn't care. Lux was trying to be too damn pure for her to leave alone. She didn't want to answer, averting her eyes.

"Yes~..." A tiny smile crossed the Demacian's lips. "He's a summoner, so we could set.. Things up without actually talking," Lux admitted shyly. Celene whistled in approval, earning herself a red-faced glare. Lux was full of surprises, not a zealot at all, like Celene had first thought.

"_Celene, it's Marten. The preparations have been made, your practice match is about to begin. Do you have all the equipment you need with you?" _Celene smirked.

"Equipment?"She asked teasingly. Lux looked at her confused. Celene raised a hand to say "wait" so the summoner couldn't tell.

"_Well, I'm going to transport you to your chamber to save you some walking." _A familiar blue ring lit up around her feet as the connection was severed. Celene inhaled through her nose, her chest starting to burn. She pulled her cloak around herself as the runes wrote themselves on Lux's messy floor. The monster disappeared in a flash, leaving Lux alone. She flopped back on her bed and sighed. Her parents would expect to report to them.

"Fuck them," she said allowed, hopping to her feet. She stuck her paper smile on her face and pushed her door open, leaving for the dining hall. She had a monster to watch and brother to cheer for.

Celene hit the floor of the summoning chamber like a rock, her balance standing strong. Marten threw his arms out in excitement at her arrival.

"Celene, it's good to see you," he said cheerfully. "I'd like you to meet your team." He gestured to the group of four figures to her left, all looking at the cloaked Ionian. She recognized them all. The large bull from yesterday, flanked by a small purple-clad woman with a tall hat. The woman smiled nicely, readjusting the position of the long rifle slung on her back. The bull grunted and bowed low. He raised himself, taking a single step towards her. With his great size, he closed the distance as he towered over her. He knelt down.

"I am Alistar," he boomed, "the Minotaur. It is my job to protect you and your friends from harm." He stuck his hand out to shake Celene's. She gripped his index finger and shook. He stood tall again, stepping back into place. Celene's eyes turned to the woman in purple, who had the eyes of a cop. The Ionian decided not to make her walk, instead taking the six steps needed to reach her.

"I am Celene. The lazy old man has yet to give me my title." She smirked at him.

"Dig yourself deeper, young lady," came Marten from behind her. Celene extended her hand through her cloak, and the woman in purple shook it.

"I am Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover." Celene's smirk grow as the woman crushed her fingers. She attempted to return the gesture, but lacked the strength to do so.

"That's not too nice," Celene teased. Caitlyn let a tiny smile leak through to her face.

"Just making sure you wouldn't bite, quite a nasty bit of work you did on Luxanna. You should have seen her father's face." Celene snickered softly, a stab of guilt pushing into the back of her mind as she turned to the remaining two champions. Garen whom she had just narrowly avoided. He was rigid, eyes forward at attention, and Riven whom was sitting against one of the rooms circular walls, away from the others. Celene nodded at Caitlyn and passed, kneeling down in front of the Exile. Riven sat with her eyes closed. Her mind was elsewhere. Celene leaned in.

"I hope my display didn't scare you," she teased. Riven didn't move.

"As if you could scare me," she almost sounded offended. Celene frowned a bit at the tone. The frown was thrown into the abyss as a tiny smirk revealed itself on Riven's lips.

"You excited?" Celene asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nervous," Riven stated stoically.

"If your done exchanging pleasantries, let's get to the fun part," Marten said, rubbing his hands together. "We summoners will be here to offer you advice, our spells, and information about enemy positions." He took a breath. "Introduce yourselves, summoners, if you please." Hoods were pulled back. Celene recognized none of the faces.

"I am Summoner Jura," said a tall, skinny man with a scraggly, unkept beard and long hair tired back into a ponytail. He nodded at Garen, the Might of Demacia, who returned the nod.

"I am High Summoner Werhan," said a chubby man with long, blond hair. He passed Celene, heading for Alistar. She wrinkled her nose, noting that the man smelled faintly of fish.

"I am Summoner Wiles. Caitlyn, if you please?" The man was tall, clearly from Piltover. "You ready for your tower diving lesson, my lady?" Caitlyn's eyes widened slightly, glaring. Alistar snorted loudly behind her at the idea. She turned to him, annoyed, looking at him with cold, scathing eyes.

"Well, what kind of support are you? Cow?" Alistar shrugged and closed his eyes.

"Moo?" He replied. Celene, Wiles, and Werhan burst out laughing.

"I am Summoner Kathrine," a woman introduced herself. She was small, but had a few inches on Celene, built on the wide side, with a round face. She descended from the platform in the room's center, kneeling down in front of Riven.

"Are you ready?" She asked considerately. The amber eyes snapped open. Riven nodded her head, her eyes shifting to Celene. The gaze reminded her of the spell Lux put a hole in her tower with. Riven pulled herself to her feet as the summoners assembled themselves in a ring on the platform facing inward, the champions passed them with their backs to each other, facing their summoners. Celene copied them, facing Marten. Orbs of crystal floated from the ceiling and each summoner placed their hands on one and began to chant. Lighting arced from the orb to the summoners' hands. Marten's finished first, the orb hovering in front him, glowing blue. An image of the ring could be seen in the orb, showing Celene and the ring of the champions. She looked up, trying to locate its source, her image copied her in real time. Marten flicked his fingers, panning the Image around the room before setting it back on her. Blue rings appeared around their feet, the runes righting themselves out.

"Hey, Beyal is on the other team, you know," said Werhan to Wiles. Wiles nodded.

"Thank fuck we aren't actually doing any piloting today," Wiles replied. The way they spoke made Celene raise her eyebrow.

"I know, his Kat is such a pain. A week ago, he and I rolled this Zaun team, he quadra'ed," Werhan spoke again. Celene was confused but intrigued, they were using slang and shortenings she hadn't heard before.

"Nice, who were you piloting?"

"Vayne."

"Oh. I didn't know you pilo-" They were cut off as the world vanished into black. Celene was surprised to see the others hovering beside her in nothing, Alistar and Caitlyn to her left, Garen and Riven to her right. Riven was performing a slow, sweeping motion with her sword. Garen drew his long, adorned broadsword and pointed it forward. Celene followed it. The enemy team was floating about sixty feet from them.

The shirtless man from yesterday lifted a sword longer then he was tall and pointed it at the Might of Demacia. The white-haired woman that was next to him was in a sitting position with a book in her face. A bow made of what looked like ice sat on her lap. In the middle, staring hard at Celene, was an insanely pissed-off looking Katarina. She was curled with her knees at her chest, glaring up at her. To her right was Sona, hovering there, her dress billowing as she plucked at a strange instrument in front of her. Celene noted that Sona wasn't wearing shoes. The last champion she didn't recognize- a woman wearing an Ionian ninja's tunic sitting cross-legged in nothing. A pair of kamas hung from the sash that tied her waist. Her mouth was covered by a green mask. Her eyes locked on Celene, running over her cloak-hidden figure in an almost ruthless examination, lifting any thread of information possible about this new enemy. Celene put her index finder under her eye and pulled downward, sticking her tongue out at the ninja. The ninja blinked once, leaning her head ever so slightly back, then blinking again. The rush of air could be heard. Over a few seconds, the rush turned to a scream and the ground slammed into their feet.

Lux had reached the dining hall. Turning into the doorway, she saw a small ring of bystanders had gathered around the large orb in the center of the room. The vendors had left their posts and pulled up chairs. Lux grabbed a chair from the nearest table and slid it up to the orb.

"Welcome to Summoner's Rift!" The all too familiar announcer echoed through the dinning hall. The image focused in on each of the champion's faces in turn. Some of the summoners had taken to voicing over the broadcast matches. The image first snapped to Celene- as she was new, she got the honor. The newcomer panned her head around, taking in the new arena. She nodded and placed her hand on the shopkeeper's table.

"She's in for a challenge today. Her lane partner is none other than the sadistic assassin Katarina, the Sinister Blade." Katarina sat motionless on the summoner platform. She opened her eyes and stood. She placed her hand on the shopkeeper's stall. There was a pause. She retracted her hand. Gripping the cutlasses at her hips, she drew both weapons, adding a spin to the motion so the weapons twirled in her hands before coming to rest in her grip. She had an excited grin on her face as she took off down the center lane of Summoner's Rift.

Lux blinked- Katarina looked even more excited then normal. _Maybe it was because of fresh meat? _Lux thought. The image snapped to bottom lane, where Alistar had lifted Caitlyn onto his shoulder. She grabbed his horn with one hand, her rifle in the other, and marched off towards lane. It was interesting. This kind of interaction simply didn't happen in normal matches. Lux felt her smile return as the image snapped to her brother Garen. He ran towards his lane as fast as his armour would allow, sword drawn. A voice came from behind Lux, completely stoic.

"Luxanna, have you seen Akali?" It was Shen. Lux turned.

"No, I haven't." just then she flicked up on screen, she sat cross legged at the base of the top tower, her kamas in her sash. Shen sat next to Lux. She glanced at him. He wore his mask like always, making seeing his face impossible. It was rare he exposed himself to her or anybody for more then moments at a time.

"I advised her against answering the summons," Shen said stoically, watching the orb. Riven flashed on screen, standing outside the empty lizard elder's camp. She was motionless, her sword level with her hip as Alistar and Caitlyn arrived. Caitlyn slid down Alistar's back and took aim at where Riven had her eyes locked.

"Minions have spawned!" The announcer boomed. The lizard elder left his tent, there was a gunshot, and the match was off. Riven lunged forward, her stone sword plunging into the distracted lizard.

Celene shifted her eyes to her right as a gunshot cracked a short distance away. Her back rested against her tower. Her eyes shifting back to the assassin Katarina, she paced back and forth just outside of Celene's tower range like a tiger. Her weapons drawn, gleaming in the midday sun. Celene smirked. _So impatient,_ she thought, closing her eyes and leaning her head back on the tower. She let the sun bathe her face. The sound of shifting clothing caused her eyes to drift open, a line of minions passing her. She stood straight, her arms leaving her brown cloak as she stretched them over her head.

"Nmmggg," the sound left her lips as Celene pulled her thin arms behind her head. Katarina was still staring at her. She backed off, allowing her own minions to in front. The waves began to fight. Celene stepped to her tower's range, feeling the blue tendrils leave her fingers under her cloak. One of Katarina's minions was getting ganged up on by hers. She spied it, her arm leaving her cloak, spearing it just like she had done before her battle with Lux.

"_Good. Remember I get gold for these, more gold, more items, more power, victory,"_ Marten said. Celene nodded, impaling another.

Shen tilted his head- the nature of her attack was strange. He leaned in slightly, watching intently now. Lux glanced at him. The crowd had grown to more then twenty.

Celene was beginning to understand the ebb and flow of how minion waves worked; if she killed them to fast, her line would push and make it harder for her to get more. Katarina was being surprisingly conservative. She placed herself just out of Celene's range, took a swipe at a minion, then backed off. The line had her nearly to her tower. Celene stood idly in the middle of the lane, watching the thick reeds at her flank more then the assassin in front of her, ready to disappear at the slightest hint of an attack from behind. She took a step forward to spear another minion. Katarina disappeared. Before Celene could react, the assassin was on her. A thin blade punched through her shoulder. Celene vanished, reappearing at her tower's range clutching her shoulder. The assassin turned casually. She flicked the blood from her weapon with a leer. The wound was already beginning to knit itself back together. The League's faster regeneration coming in handy.

"_Don't worry about it,"_ Marten said. "_If you feel like you're in trouble, drink on the potions hanging from your belt."_ The newcomer felt the oddly shaped glass bottles with her hand, remembering them clinking together amusingly as she jogged into lane. She looked at the assassin, stepping from her tower's protective range as Katarina's minion line advanced towards her. She began to spear the wounded minions once again. The assassin paced just outside of her range. Her stance was odd. Katarina rested her weight on her back foot, her cutlasses held back handed; not normally how you would hold that type of weapon, but it seemed to be working. She held her left arm straight, her left side facing Celene. Her right hand was tucked up by her chin, the weapon held the conventional way. The stance made Celene think of her playing a violin. A small smile split her lips at the idea.

Shen nodded in approval. His companion, Akali, was doing well. Lux, on the other hand was frowning. Garen was having a hard time keeping up with the ninja. She darted in, took a few swings, then threw a smoke bomb and vanished before Garen could really fight back. His armour had kept him safe through most of the engagements. He took a step towards a minion, raising his broadsword to strike. Akali burst from the bush at blinding speed. Garen managed to awkwardly curve the downward swing towards the assaulting Akali. Stepping out of the way as if avoiding a door she had just opened, she darted inside his guard. Her kama struck him in the side- the heavy Demacian battle armour was doing its job- as he just winced from the blow. He brought the broadsword back towards the ninja, who ducked, getting inside for another hit. She aimed high at his neck. Garen shielded his face with a gauntleted hand. He caught the weapon by the blade. The ninja abandoned it- a blast of smoke and she was gone.

"You depend too much on that armour, Demacian," a level voice came from the smoke. Garen looked around himself. He held his sword closer to himself then he normally would, her stolen weapon gripped tightly in his off hand.

"And you depend too much on the element of surprise," he shouted back into the smoke. It slowly cleared. The ninja know he was expecting her and waited.

"_Celene, Riven is coming, get ready,"_ Marten piped up. Celene and Katarina had been dancing around each other, farming for the last five minutes. The newcomer wasn't stupid and didn't make the same mistake as before. Riven was coming- Celene felt her chest burn. The assassin was being far to conservative to make killing her easy. She could simply pop away to the safety of her tower.

"_Now!"_ She could imagine him leaning in towards the orb as she advanced. She was now in the middle of the lane. Katarina disappeared again. Celene was waiting for her to, and vanished as well. A cutlass narrowly missed impaling her as she reappeared a few feet behind where she had been. Katarina snuck a glance over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she realized she had been tricked. Celene didn't waste the opportunity. Tendrils of blue exploded from under her brown cloak, advancing quickly on the redhead. Katarina had managed to turn around. She took a step back, swiping at the blue with her sword before deciding to turn again and run. The newcomer appeared in front of her in a blue flash. Katarina swung at her head, the weapon meeting a wall of blue strands. Encircling the weapon, they snaked their way up to the assassin's hand. The sharp tips plunged into her flesh. She cried out. There was a sound from behind her- sandaled footsteps. She looked over her shoulder, trying to gather the energy to shunpo away. Riven was within feet of her. Her focused gaze burned into the assassin like a brand.

"Fuck!" Katarina swore aloud, knowing she was in a lot of trouble, but she was forced to fight. She ripped her hand free of Celene, the tendrils goring her flesh, taking the cutlass with them as the assassin turned. Riven was in the air now, fully intent on splitting Katarina in two. She sidestepped the blow, the stone sword passing inches in front of her face. Riven began to pivot her upper body the second the weapon missed, now facing the assassin. Her heavy sword lagging behind her as she swung it at Katarina's head. The assassin leaned back to avoid the blow again. The attack sailed in front of her face, taking nearly two feet worth of red hair with it. Katarina righted herself before Riven could recover from the swing. Her mangled left hand pressed itself against the back of the Exile's right arm, pinning the blade out of Katarina's way as she twisted inside Riven's guard, her remaining cutlass heading for the Exile's neck. Celene appeared in the way. Her small, thin fingers wrapping around the assassin's hand, her other hand closed around her neck. Hundreds of blue strands left her cloak.

"Why, hello there!" Celene shouted with a sadistic grin. Katarina had absolutely no intention of being near Celene. Drawing a sharp breath, she vanished, appearing already in full sprint behind the pair. Riven took off after her. Katarina stole a glance over her shoulder; Riven was gaining ground with surprising speed. She would be reached before the safety of her tower. Katarina cursed internally and dug her cleated boots into the mud. Spinning, she sent a wave of throwing knives at Riven. The Exile managed to put her body through a gap in the spacing of the projectiles. She ducked low, thrusting her sword towards the assassin. Katarina knocked the attack aside. Blasts of green exploded from Riven's sword as the assassin stumbled to her side. She stabilized in time to put her cutlass in between herself and the Exile. There was a clang of metal against stone. Katarina was swatted right off her feet. She hit the ground, rolling back onto her feet as Riven sank into a much faster version of the combo she practiced so much. Broken Wings, the exile had named it. She spun into the second swing, this time coming from Katarina's left. The assassin was unable to adjust as the blade barely missed her exposed stomach, leaving a thin red scratch. Riven recycled the movement as the heavy weapon swung its way behind her. She spun with the swing, redirecting the energy upward as she had done so many times before. She was facing the assassin again, her sword in the peak of its arc above her head. Katarina had no time to avoid it. She shielded herself with her remaining cutlass, but the combination of gravity, kinetic energy, and Riven's strength proved too much. The blades met with another clang, Katarina's knees buckling as the cutlass snapped neatly in two. The stone sword continued downward without pause and struck Katarina's collar bone. Her leather armour provided no protection as the bone split. The blade bit nearly a foot downward before stopping.

"Gotcha," Riven muttered. Katarina blinked, dazed. She looked down and blinked again. Her arms hung limply at her sides. Celene whistled to herself, leaning arms crossed against the base of her tower. Strands of blue waved slowly around her thin form. Katarina's hands raised, her fingers wrapping around the stone blade embedded in her.

"Ionia-loving traitor," Katarina choked out at her, blood seeping into her mouth.

"Bitch," Riven calmly replied. She put a hand on the assassin's shoulder, wriggling her sword loose. Katarina remained still, her body not comprehending the amount of damage it had taken. She was feeling lightheaded, her right side coated in something warm and wet. Riven put her hand between the assassin's breasts and pushed. She was unable to keep her balance and toppled backwards into a spiraled pile.

"First Blood!" The voice rang through the dining hall and clapping rose from the crowd. More people had arrived.

"Why did Katarina throw those knives?" Lux turned to Shen and asked. The ninja was still. He pondered the question just like he did with everything.

"She wasn't counting on Riven wriggling by them like a snake under a door." Shen remained still. Lux nodded, her blue eyes on the orb. The match progressed roughly fifteen minutes before anything exciting happened again. Considering it was a practice match, there was very little fighting outside of small skirmishes. The score was fifteen to eleven in favor of the purple team.

"You know this.. Celene?" Shen asked Lux. The ninja hadn't moved a muscle in the last fifteen minutes

"I do; I was her opponent on the Proving Grounds today," Lux said, watching as the blue team began to gather together.

"How did that go?" Shen looked at her, intrigued. Lux didn't answer. The match had been going nearly thirty minutes, and much to the crowd's disappointment, Celene hadn't shown very much. The newcomer had a single kill to her name, where as her redheaded competitor had five to hers. Everyone in the crowd knew what was going to happen in the next few minutes; allowing a champion that much more gold than everyone else was bad, no matter which champion it was. Katarina specialized in killing others; she had little ability on the Fields of Justice beyond that. At the moment, she was doing her job perfectly.

Celene crouched low in the reeds, the water up to her knees. Her cloak floated on its surface. She peered through the reeds as Sona drifted towards them, her toes barely touching the still water. She clutched a small, winged totem in one hand, the green crystal at its top glowing softly. Her other hand idly plucked at an instrument that floated along with her. The music was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Celene shook her head, not letting it distract her. She motioned to Alistar and Caitlyn. The bull practically lay in the water to keep his height from giving them away, supporting his weight on his massive fists in an unmoving pushup. Caitlyn sat cross-legged on his back, her rifle fully extended. She used Alistar's horn as a bipod, looking through the arrangement of lenses along the rifle's barrel.

"She wouldn't be alone, this is a practice match," Caitlyn muttered, waiting, her sights trained on the floating musician.

"I agree," Alistar whispered. Celene was impressed how stealthy he was being, given his size. He leaned his head down farther, his horn sliding towards the end of Caitlyn's barrel. His door knocker-sized nose ring dipped into the still water.

"Steady, you big cow," Caitlyn said quietly. Alistar smirked, holding as still as he could. Riven moved up next to Celene. Looking behind her, she pursed her lips and placed her index finger over them. The enemy team emerged from the reeds that blocked sight of the middle lane, Akali parting them neatly with her kamas. She took a step onto the water, a single ripple expanding out from where her foot met the surface. She took another, walking on the surface casually.

"Ninjas are bullshit," Alistar spat as quietly as he could. The rest of the hidden blue team snorted. Celene looked over to the Exile next to her, smiling softly at the minotaur's comment. Garen pointed past Celene's head, a gauntlet-clad finger aimed at the reeds. Katarina hacked her way out of the tall, green wall. She stumbled slightly into the water with a loud splash. Akali spun around, her green eyes meeting the assassin's more vivid ones.

"Could you make any more noise?!" The ninja hissed, a thick Ionian accent present in her voice. Katarina drew herself up to her full height, but Akali towered over her, her position on the water surface giving her an advantage in the height department, as the taller Noxian stood knee deep in water. Caitlyn trained her sights on the assassin's head.

"Fuck you, bitch, do I need to tell your pimp Shen how you've been behaving," Katarina said flatly, crossing her arms at her chest. Akali blinked. Shen had failed to ever explain to her what a pimp was, though she understood the first part of what Katarina had said. She knelt down, leveling her eyes with the assassin, her expression unreadable past her face mask. The thump of approaching steps was heard

beyond the reeds. Tryndamere burst through, slamming his boots into the water. He neglected to use the path through the reeds Katarina had already created in favor of ramming through with his weight.

"What's going on?" He spoke loud enough for a small echo to reverberate back to him. Katarina felt herself smirk, as Akali narrowed her eyes at the large man.

Sona floated by the patch of river grass that hid the blue team. Deciding it was a good spot for her Baron ward, she cheerfully turned and parted the reeds with her hand, using the hand holding the ward to widen the part. She pushed in a bit farther and came face to face with the Might of Demacia.

Sona opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. Sona, remembering she was mute, floated backwards away from the bush. She dropped her ward with a small splash and pointed frantically at the bush. Her team wasn't looking; Akali and Katarina were both glaring at the shirtless man as Ashe stepped through the gap in the reeds. Sona looked back at the bush nervously. Smirking at her, Garen put his finger to his lips and withdrew from sight. She waved her arms over her head. Ashe spotted the flailing musician and pointed. Sona sighed again and pointed to the bush. The purple team locked their eyes on the patch of grass.

"Enemies?" Akali asked the musician. Sona nodded her head frantically, floating quickly towards her team. Akali took a step, her body passing in front of Katarina. A muzzle flash came from the the reeds with a loud crack. The bullet struck the ninja in the arm, spraying Katarina in blood. Katarina blinked the flecks of red from her eyes, comprehending how lucky she was. Akali winced, pushing the pain out of her mind as she threw a smoke bomb into the water. It exploded into a gray cloud. She put her hand on Katarina's head, forcing her down into the water as more gunshots left the bush. The assassin pushed the ninja off of her, looking up at her with a murderous expression.

"Fuck, she blocked my shot," Caitlyn shouted, jumping from Alistar's back. She pulled the trigger several more times. A glint came from the cloud. An icy blue arrow left the smoke, aimed at Caitlyn's muzzle flash. Alistar saw it, thrusting his arm in front of Caitlyn. The arrow hit him with a thunk and thin layer of ice spread from it.

"Our cover is blown. CHARGE!" Garen exclaimed, bursting from the reeds. He slogged towards the cloud of smoke as quickly as he could. "Demacia!"

"Ugh!" Riven groaned loudly at the reckless solder, charging out after him. Celene followed, staying behind the large, fast-moving wall of Demacian armoured ham. Tryndamere emerged, screaming obscenities, his sword dragging behind him as he charged for the reeds that hid Caitlyn and Alistar. Chaos followed as all but Katarina came running from the smoke. Akali dashed nimbly across the water, weaving and ducking left to right. Her good arm swung at Riven, who ducked. Garen put himself in between Tryndamere and Caitlyn's hiding place. The shirtless man shouted something about the Demacian's mother and swung his sword down at him. Garen intercepted the blow with his sword, deflecting it. He pulled his sword across the man's chest. Tryndamere didn't even flinch, ignoring the fact that he'd been wounded. He screamed at the top of his lungs, swinging his oversized sword again. Garen ducked the blow.

"You're in my fucking way!" Caitlyn shouted from the reed, trying to squeeze a shot past the wall of Demacian armour that filled her sights. Celene materialized next to Akali, a wave of blue erupting from her cloak. Akali dashed between them before either could react, her kama sinking into Garen's armour.

The Might of Demacia flinched as the weapon punched through the chain mail that defended his sides.

_God damn, she's fast,_ Celene thought to herself. She hadn't seen head nor tail of the redhead. Celene closed her eyes, deciding to focus on disrupting the assassin when she arrived.

Riven and Celene were both out of position. The Exile inhaled sharply, her sword pulsing brightly, a flash of green light emitted from it, several stone fragments suspended in the air, the runes glowing bright green. The sword was now longer then Tryndamere's. Her eyes locked on Ashe, holding the weapon no different then she had before. She sprinted, the blade's new tip dragging in the water. Ashe turned her attention to the charging Exile and released the arrow she had just nocked. Riven tucked her head down, making herself as small a target as possible. She shifted her course slightly, the arrow sailing by her ear with a whistle. Riven stumbled from the sudden change in direction, maintaining her speed. Ashe began to look worried. As the gap was being closed, she loosed a second arrow. Riven twisted, too close to avoid it. As it struck her shoulder, her teeth gritted, locking her amber eyes on the now terrified-looking archer. She did what she had done many times before, forcing herself headfirst through the agony that washed over her body. She reached the archer who was awkwardly trying to nock an arrow as the battleground reduced to the size of a phone booth.

Celene stood with her eyes shut, listening. The sounds of battle raged all around her, gunshots from behind her, the clashing of weapons to her front. She heard what she was waiting for, a puff to her right. She snapped her head to the sound, as did everyone. Katarina had appeared. She was standing with one foot on a rock that rose out of the water, sinking into a low spin. Everyone knew what was coming, but no one was close enough to stop it. The woman became a spinning flurry of red hair and steel, knives flying out of the lotus of death with impressive precision. Alistar put himself in between the woman and Caitlyn, knocking her to the ground. The first knife was aimed straight for the newcomer. Celene disappeared. reappeared, then disappeared again. She repeated, avoiding all of the attacks as yells of pain and gurgles filled her ears. Riven turned her back on the archer, unable to avoid the barrage of throwing knives that slammed into her. She hid behind her sword. Katarina was able to aim the knives between the levitating fragments of stone. Riven fell to her knees, and Garen soon followed, a knife embedded in his throat. Celene reappeared in the bushes behind Katarina, knowing she had one chance. It was slim, but worth a try. Alistar fell to the ground and a massive splash followed. Katarina recovered from her dance, hopping down from the rock and charging towards the now undefended Caitlyn. Celene saw her chance. She materialized above and behind Katarina, knocking her to the ground as gunshots erupted from the reeds.

"You fucking nin-" Katarina began, thinking Akali had shoved her down again. Her head turned up to meet a pair of hungry blue eyes and a wicked ear-to-ear grin.

Akali noted the newcomer had knocked Katarina off her feet as she dashed towards the now-fleeing Caitlyn. _Whatever,_ she thought, turning her eyes to her prey.

Celene felt her fingers wrap around the assassin's wrists as she slammed into the water on her back. Katarina knew she was stronger then the girl, it was just a matter of overpowering her. Celene leaned in as Katarina hit the bottom. Tendrils wrapped around her wrists, invasively running up under her sleeves. Celene wanted the assassin; she wanted to give her what she didn't have time to all those years ago. Katarina felt her arms being pinned to her sides as the blue strands encircled her. She sucked in a breath before the water covered her face. She struggled against the strands as bit into her skin. The newcomer that had given Katarina her now-famous scar leaned in. Their foreheads touched. Katarina pressed her back involuntary into the riverbed as her personal space was invaded. Celene noticed that her chest was on fire. There was a pause. The assassin wiggled against the blue bindings. Celene felt the sting of guilt early this time. She knew it would be much worse after the body was returned.

_Maybe if I romanticized the idea a bit Katarina wouldn't be as angry? _Her cheeks reddened slightly at the idea. Celene didn't have time to ponder- the assassin had managed to free one of her arms and was reaching for the pair of swords on her back. Celene closed her eyes and dove blindly into the abyss. Their lips met. The Noxian froze up, her blood feeling like it turned to ice. Her eyes went wide. Celene didn't break the kiss, she exhaled into the assassin's tight lips and released the fire in her chest. The assassin was in shock; she clenched her teeth behind her lips. Celene's cloak was ripped from her as the tendrils punched their way from her back. The assassin overcame her shock, struggling again. A spark of fear lit in her heart as blue strands emerged from Celene's lips. Parting the assassin's, they forced their way down Katarina's throat, water coming with them. She gagged, her hands coming free as Celene slumped down on top of her. Katarina's hand found the cutlass on her back. Drawing the weapon, she thrust it into the girl, her hand gripping tight as she was forced to swallow. Clenching her eyes shut, she pushed against Celene, kicking at her with her heavy boots. Anything to get away from the assault.

"_Katarina!" _Beyal screamed in her head. "_Move! Shunpo, do some-" _His voice was cut off as her mind was flooded with some alien presence. Her body began to convulse as the last of the strands disappeared. She involuntary curled up. Her eyes snapped open as the convulsions stilled. She smiled. Katarina was confused. She hadn't told her lips to do that.

"_Beyal! what the fuck are you doing, you were told not to pilot!" _She screamed in her head, attempting to sever the link. Nothing changed- there was no link, Katarina realized. Her body had been stolen from her.

Celene thrust her new body's head from the water, coughing and spluttering. Celene's old body floated limply in the water next to her, the form stained the water crimson. A soft footstep from behind her got Celene's attention.

"Caitlyn managed to escape," Akali said flatly, tossing the net she was holding into the water as the rest of her team arrived. "Katarina" couldn't help but start to laugh, starting low in a chuckle but rising in volume and pitch to a cackling, echoing laugh. Her new voice was well-suited to it. Her new three feet of red hair fell over her shoulders as she straightened all the way up. Akali tensed slightly.

"Something is funny, assassin?" The question had a touch of hostility to it. "Katarina" didn't answer. The real Katarina screamed inside the prison of her own mind, watching helplessly through her own eyes.

"_Beyal! Something's wrong, tell them to kill me. KILL ME!"_ She screamed. Akali approached as Tryndamere, Ashe, and Sona all leaned in. Akali set her weapons in her sash and placed a hand on the assassin's shoulder. The body was no longer hers, but Katarina felt uncomfortable. She commanded her hand to slap Akali away. There was no response.

"Are you alright, Noxian?" Akali asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Peachy~." "Katarina"'s tone was unnervingly cheerful. Celene turned her head, cocking it sideways, looking at the ninja. Akali recoiled in shock. The Noxian's eyes were bright blue, a sadistic smile on her face. Akali reached for her weapons. Katarina spun, thrusting the cutlass still in her hand through the ninja's gut.

"Hullggh!" Akali bent forward, her eyes wide in shock. Celene tore the blade loose, twirled it in her hand as the ninja fell with a splash. Katarina's experience with the weapons came in handy; they felt like an extension of her arms rather then something she held in her hand. She disappeared with a blue flash, reappearing in front of Ashe. The archer had managed to nock an arrow after seeing her former teammate impale Akali. Tendrils of blue exploded from Celene's new back, a wave of pain washing over her as Katarina's nerves retaliated. The archer took a surprised step back, fear plastered across her thin face.

"Double kill!" The announcer boomed over the field. "Katarina" slipped under Ashe's bow, jamming the weapon into her thigh. She cried in pain, flinching. She brought her knee up between the archer's thighs as she tore the blade upwards and ripped it free. Ashe doubled over, dropping her bow she reached desperately for the dagger that hung from her belt. Hundreds of blue needles punched their way through the archer's front. Ashe went limp against the assault of blue. Celene turned her head, her new red hair contrasting the writhing mass of blue strands. A screaming, fast approaching Tryndamere filled her vision.

"Triple Kill!" the announcer boomed again. Lux stared wide-eyed, her mouth ajar. The room was silent aside from the sounds of combat coming from the orb.

Celene stepped to the side, Ashe still hanging from the blue strands. The large sword sailed by her. Celene casually leaned her head backwards and to her left, avoiding a second wild swing from a furious Tryndamere. Katarina finally broke through mentally to Beyal.

"_Stop the match! Now!" _She screamed, feeling her hands drive the blade through Tryndamere's throat. The man ignored the wound and swing his blade downward over his head at Katarina.

"_I can't! That's a surrender on our part,"_ he said as calmly as he could.

"_NOW!" _Katarina screamed back at him.

"TRAITOR!" Tryndamere gurgled as the assassin disappeared, his sword sinking into the muddy riverbed. A pair of cutlasses plunged into his back. He looked down to see the weapons punch through his pecs, the guards hitting his back. Blue tendrils snaked around the weapons, working their way through him. He felt his insides get torn to sheds by the blue strands around the blades. Celene felt her new, fuller lips split as she ripped the blue strands outward in all directions, dicing the furious man. Celene blinked as she was covered in a thin layer of red gore.

"Quadra kill," shouted the announcer. Celene stepped down from the ruined Tryndamere like he was a flight of stairs. He wobbled before falling forward into the river. She was breathing hard, covered in blood and sweat. Her face mirrored what you would expect Katarina to make after just performing a similar task. She flicked the tendrils, sending Ashe's limp body into the river with a splash and looked up towards the clouds.

She frowned. Something was out of place. Katarina lacked the warm flow of mana in her blood. _All that time wasted..._ Celene felt Katarina's scar. _I hurt her... For nothing._ Celene's sadism turned on her. _It doesn't matter why. You should never do this to anybody, you goddamn freak! _She mentally snapped at herself. Her new eyes turned downward, spotting her reflection in the water. A frowning, red haired woman wearing a thin sheet of blood stared back at her, the blue tendrils drifting in wind with her hair. Celene noted the slight disappointment in the body with a sigh. The guilt that normally followed replaced by a spark of self-targeting anger. "I have no control over what I am. I made a mistake. So be it," she muttered to herself as she turned, giving the shocked musician to her left an impassive look before striding from the river.

Celene felt a pull in her mind, like someone had attached a rope to her attention and tugged. She stopped dead in her tracks. It pulled upwards. Celene gasped in her new body as she felt her awareness being ripped forcibly out. She resisted, but it was no use; everything went black as she was ripped free. The ground slammed into her feet and the world reappeared. She was standing on the summoner platform, having lost nearly a foot and roughly forty pounds. She blinked. Her brown cloak settled around her shoulders.

"_The enemy team has surrendered,"_ Marten piped up.

"I didn't know you could rip me from a body. That's... worrisome." Celene said aloud.

"_Why do you think people actually listen to the League of Legends?" _Marten asked rhetorically. "_Either way." _A blue ring appeared around her feet. Within a minute, she was standing next to Riven in the summoning chamber. Everybody was staring at her wide eyes. She sighed, the guilt surprisingly absent. _Maybe a bit of romance was the answer?_ She mused at the idea.

"Dude... That was fucking AMAZING," Werhan said. Celene felt herself smile. The fast approaching sound of heavy boots could be heard outside. The heavy door was kicked open, revealing a gore-coated, sopping wet, murder-faced Katarina, breathing heavily. She glared daggers at Celene. Her eye twitched.

"You..." She advanced a step. "You stole my body." She advanced another step. "You tormented me." She reached Celene. "You... KISSED ME?!" She leaned in and yelled at the top of her lungs. "Just to SPITE me." The assassin wrapped her gloved hand around Celene's neck. "Why..?" She asked the question slowly. Everyone in the room was frozen. Celene let out a long sigh.

"It was a mistake," Celene answered. Katarina's eyes narrowed. "I took an interest in your body a long time ago; I thought it a solution to my mundane life. But.. It turns out you're not what I'm looking for after all," Celene admitted, her gaze shifting away from the redhead. "I'm jealous of you... You accept who you are, I do not. You have goals and ambitions related to your personality, I do not." Celene averted her eyes. "As for the kiss.." Katarina's grip tightened, earning a bit lip and soft squeak of pain. "Because you and I are so alike, I wanted to make the process more... Pleasant, if possible. I was trying to be kind, in my own twisted way," she finished, her face hot. Celene was blushing. Katarina wrinkled her nose and slapped Celene hard across the face with the back of her gloved hand. Throwing her from her hand, Celene lost her balance. Alistar caught her with a simple motion of his hand. The bull glared at the assassin, returning Celene to her feet.

"Katarina," Riven spoke up. "Stop. This violence will solve nothing. Wouldn't it be bett-"

"SHUT UP!" The assassin spun. "Violence solves everything! I have solved every single problem in my life by running a sword through it!" Katarina screamed. She glared around the room as everyone took a step closer to Celene. The assassin knew she couldn't win. She gritted her teeth and whirled around, storming from the room, her hair billowing behind her like a cape.

Swain stood in the back off the crowded dining hall. His eyes narrowed. He had just watched a possessed Katarina butcher an entire team. He had some tasks for his red-haired lackey, he thought to himself before turning and hobbling off towards her room.

**Authors Notes: Sona leaned the hard way, there is a Garen in every bush. The reviews are very highly appreciated. I have taken all the advice and criticism into account during editing and attempted to make this more enjoyable to read. Thank you.**


	4. Earth

**Author's Notes: Before anything I would like to credit my friend James for working his magic on my cover page. On topic, I'm aware that Cassiopeia is a bit ooc but I ended up really liking how she turned out so it stayed. Enjoy.**

**Edit: Thanks to some helpful reviewers This chapter has hopefully been smoothed out for your viewing pleasure, enjoy**

Chapter 4

Earth

The throwing knife met her wooden ceiling with a thunk. Katarina lay on her back sideways on her bed, her bare feet hanging off the end. She stared off into space, playing connect-the-dots with the knives sticking from her ceiling, ending up with a contorted square. Sitting up, she reached for the weapons before flopping back down. She flicked another, trying to draw a person. Going over her task in her mind one last time, she zoned off again. It had been a week sence Swain rapped his cane on her door.

"Sinister Blade, this new champion could pose a threat to Noxus," he had said, leaning on his cane. "I need you to find out all you can about her." The assassin was groaning by now, he raised a finger to silence her. "Shush. DO NOT HARM HER. She may be useful as an ally." Katarina practically flipped her bed at the words. Torturing information out of somebody was tiresome, but at least it could be made fun; this was completely out of her spectrum of expertise. Her temper flared, glaring daggers at Swain. She forced it back, dread replacing it.

"You want me..." She spoke slowly, "to befriend her?" Swain shrugged.

"The methods are up to you." He raised his hand, holding up two fingers. "Two rules. One: she must remain totally unharmed." He tucked a finger downward. "Two: she must not find out what your doing." He lowered his other finger and turned to take his leave, hobbling from her room.

Katarina sighed in dread. She flicked another knife into the ceiling, working on drawing a stick figure. Several minutes passed. The figure had come out lumpy and disjointed. Katarina smirked at it.

_Maybe he just got pushed down a flight of stairs,_ she thought, a smile splitting her lips. She kicked her feet up and down slowly. Her head turned to her door. Someone had just walked by, casting a thin shadow under the door as they passed. Her eyes wandered a bit, glancing at the random objects that were strewn about her room. She noted that she didn't own much aside from clothing and weapons. She started to list the items outside of the categories on her hand; a pair of reading glasses she had never once worn, a hidden stash of chocolate, makeup bought for her as a gift by her sister, which she had never worn- not for lack of trying, she honestly was totally unsure how to apply the damn stuff. She remember trying once and poking herself in the eye. She had then boxed the makeup and never looked at it again. Katarina frowned at the three fingers she was holding up, pondering whether or not she was one dimensional, then pondering why it mattered if she was. She wrinkled her nose, lowering her fingers. Anxiety tingled in her chest. She vigorously shook her head, sending crimson hair in all directions.

_Why the fuck am I so nervous? I'm just going to snoop around her room, no conversations will be had._ She thought to herself, pulling the red from in front of her face. Her eyes fell on the half-sized mirror leaning by her wall. Beyal had bought her a new one. She had found it leaning on her door four days ago. She looked herself over in it. A redheaded young woman, naked except for underwear, looked back at her. She pondered why he had bothered to replace it.

_Why would he bother buying me a new one? Is he trying to say I'm ugly? _She looked at herself in the mirror again, her eyes narrowing. She hopped to her feet, turning the mirror around so it faced the wall.

"What an asshole," she muttered to herself. She was already on her feet. She groaned loudly, pulling a pair of pants and a shirt, both of which were black, from her already open dresser drawer. There was a clatter as she lifted the shirt. She squinted her eyes and looked down into the drawer. It was now empty, aside from a small wooden box and a pair of thumb-screws. Katarina blinked, tossing the clothing on her bed. She lifted the lid of the box, revealing her twelve remaining chocolate-covered truffles. She picked one up in her fingers, knowing she would need it to stem the insanity. She grabbed a second and replaced the lid. Popping the first into her mouth, she pulled the clothing on and reached for her knife belt. She stopped herself- the temptation would be too great. She did a half vault over her bed, landing on the other side. Her hands landing on her bookshelf, she paused. Why the fuck was she listening to Swain, she wondered. She considered just throwing herself on her bed and going to sleep. She swallowed the truffle- she had broken out the chocolate; now she had to do it. She groaned again, pushing the bookshelf aside just enough for her to slip out of her window. He sat perched on the sill. Roughly forty feet below her were the institute gardens. She questioned the sanity of the League's architects. The halls were held up by pillars with the windows overlooking the gardens- like covered bridges with rooms inside that connected two buildings across the Institute's large courtyard. She shook the thought from her head, clambering up the side of her outside wall. She pulled herself up onto the roof, clambering up the shingling. She turned around, her green eyes locking on the top of the hall across from her, the Zaun hall stood in the way. Katarina didn't feel like jumping the large gap. She inhaled sharply and shunpo'ed across, past the Zaun hall onto the Neutral one. Katarina had explored the gardens the day before, trying to figure out which window belonged to the new champion. After about an hour of procrastinating, she had found it- the window in between an empty room and the room with the boarded up window.

She lowered herself onto her stomach, sliding her way down the roofing. She sighed and popped the second truffle into her mouth, lowering herself headfirst in front of where she knew the window would be. Her hair dangled down in front of the window as she lowered herself carefully. She wasn't worried about falling; should she lose her balance, she would just shunpo to the ground. The thought made her feel a bit safer as her green eyes reached the top of the windows frame. Celene lay asleep, curled up on top of her covers, wrapped in her brown cloak. Blue tendrils protruded from the neckline of the cloak. Katarina eyed them nervously. They seemed to drift in the air, like hair underwater. She twisted herself right side up using her feet. Pressing them into the stone and almost walking her way upright, using her arms as a pivot. She lifted herself into a crouch in Celene's window before stepping inside. As her bare foot touched the tile, she shivered. Katarina's floors were wood- Celene's room must be cheaper, the assassin thought, noticing the tile. She stood, eyeing the sleeping monster carefully. She knelt down low, crawling under the waving strands of blue that illuminated the room. She stood upright on the other side. The monster's room was very clean compared to hers. Discarded clothing lay in a pile on the floor next to her bed rather then everywhere. Katarina wished she could just kill the girl. Glaring at the sleeping form, she realized how easy it would be.

Celene rolled over. Katarina almost shunpo'ed straight out her window. The girl muttered, the strands now in Katarina's way again. The assassin turned slowly. She could feel her heart beating as her hand wrapped around the dresser handle and pulled. The drawer empty, she moved to the next one. It was empty as well. Katarina snuck a look over she shoulder at the girl, snoring softly. The assassin pulled the last drawer open. It was empty. She ran her hand over the top of the dresser. Katarina snatched up the papers that her fingers brushed. She looked them over. They were her League of Legends public summoning and balance form. Katarina had something similar. She noted the name- Celene, Eternity's Wings. She raised an eyebrow, dropping the papers on the dresser. Katarina turned, walking silently across the tile. She peered around the corner of the bed, under the waving tendrils. The floor was bare. This woman seemed to own literally nothing but clothing, and not much of that.

_What a fucking minimalist,_ she thought, annoyed to herself. If she couldn't dig up anything, she would have to resort to eavesdropping, and possibly even talking to the girl. She covered her mouth, suppressing a groan. She noted the truffles had made her thirsty. _Ugh, why can't I just stab her and clench my thirst that way?_ She gritted her teeth. A mental image of Vladimir smiling at her with an approving thumbs-up flooded her brain. She turned away from the girl and slammed her head violently into the dresser with a bang. The image remained, stubbornly, she cocked her head back, slamming it into the wooden furniture again. She felt a bit dizzy. Her eyes widened, realizing how much noise she had made.

She heard a groan from behind her. Katarina whirled around to see Celene was rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. They were just barely open, the slight blue glow very visible in the near black of the room. Katarina ducked down, curling herself up and sliding under her bed. There was a yawn from above her. Katarina remained motionless for a long while, staring straight ahead. She heard Celene roll over again, the tendrils draping down over the bed's left side. They touched the tile floor, seemed to make them simply hang rather then wave. Katarina flicked her eyes to them as they lit up her hiding spot bright blue. She reached carefully for one, knowing it was probably a mistake. Her fingers separated a single strand from the mass, pulling it toward her slightly, leaning in. It was warm, probably mirroring Celene's body heat. She twisted it in her finger- it had a smooth texture. Katarina almost expected it to feel like her hair. Instead, it was like thick, softly-glowing, blue fishing line. There was another groan from above her. Katarina released the strand, hearing Celene roll over again. The monster fell face down onto the tile floor. She was still asleep, her head turned so her closed eyes pointed under the bed. Katarina froze, looking with a wide eyed stare at Celene. The monster snuffled slightly, her eyes drifting open lazily, their blue glow lighting up the paralyzed assassin. Celene didn't fully open them, she glanced at the floor, shivered, then pulled her cloak around her tighter. She smiled at the warmth, her eyes closing again, shrouding Katarina in darkness. The assassin exhaled slowly. She began to crawl towards the foot of the bed, her green eyes never leaving Celene's face. She pulled herself out from under the bed in much the same way should pulled herself from her window.

Katarina stood again. Celene was lying on the floor, splayed out right between Katarina and the window. She inhaled, preparing to shunpo over the girl. A red flag went up in her head. She recalled how she could sleep through people talking and noises, but how the sound of metal scraping against metal woke her up instantly. Celene had heard Katarina's shunpo before; she knew this from their first match. The small puff sound was all that announced her arrival. She decided it wasn't a good idea, letting the breath out. Katarina looked at the girl that lay neatly in between her and freedom. She took a step, gently maneuvering around the girl. Shifting her weight, she took another, putting her bare foot behind Celene's head, being sure to step over the blue strands. Celene rolled onto her back, her head bumping against the assassin's foot. To Katarina's horror, the girl snuggled her head into the curve of her foot. She felt her stomach turn over. What was worse was that Celene was smiling. She sighed contently. Celene seemed enjoy the touch. Katarina briefly considered shunpo'ing into the open air outside the window. Compared to involuntary intimate contact with another human being, a forty foot fall didn't sound so bad. She pushed the thought away. Katarina gritted her teeth as she carefully slid her foot away from Celene. The girl groaned in displeasure as the heat left her face, but remained asleep. Katarina practically jumped out the window, launching herself onto the sill, clambering quickly out of sight.

The assassin had never been happier to shiver in the cold night air. Katarina spied her window. Inhaling, she shunpo'ed to the sill. She slid past her bookcase and roughly pressed it against her window, leaning her weight on it. The redhead let out a sigh and fell forward onto her bed, crawling under the covers like a mole. The cool fabric was soothing. She sighed, feeling her heart begin to slow. She sat up, realizing she wasn't tired. Groaning, she pulled the blanket off her head, ruffling her hair in the process. Her green eyes narrowed at her dresser. Practically bounding from her bed, she ripped the drawer open and lifted out a small wooden box. She took a step backward, sitting on her bed and returning herself to the warmth of her blankets again, box in hand. Katarina pulled her knees to her chest, the blanket draped over her hair. She propped the box up on her knees and flicked the lid off.

"Fuck it," she muttered to herself, eyeing the first of the remaining chocolates.

* * *

Celene felt her eyes drift open. She blinked, unsure what she was looking at. Her face was pressed against something hard and cold. The monster pushed herself into a sitting position. She had fallen off her bed. Celene rubbed the side of her face, pushing the drowsiness away, frowning. It had been a long time since she last fell off her bed. She stood, her cloak wrapped around her, the drowsiness was beginning to return.

_I probably didn't sleep very well,_ Celene thought to herself. She considered returning to her bed. The sun blasted through her window, leaving a yellow pillar aimed directly at her pillow. The monster narrowed her eyes. She had never liked the sun very much, much preferring the indoors. She concluded trying to sleep under its hot gaze wasn't worth it. She needed to get something to eat, she decided. She snatched up the papers Marten had slid under her door the day before from her dresser and left her room. Her cloak billowing behind her, she walked forward, slammed her weight into the hall door. It creaked open in a grudging surrender. The monster peeked her head inside the dining hall.

"Celene!" A booming voice carried across the hall. The monster spotted a waving Alistar sitting hunched at a small, circular two-person table, Caitlyn sitting across from him. She held a small cup to her lips as Celene strode over to the pair. She grabbed a chair from a table with three ninja at it. She recognized Akali, who sported simple white cotton clothing instead of the green Celene had seen and impaled her in. Her face-mask was absent. Akali and Celene actually looked very similar, aside from the difference in eye color, length of their hair, and size of their breasts. The two looked uncannily alike. The ninja gave the her a nodding "hello" as she stole their forth chair. Celene arranged herself at Caitlyn and Alistar's table. A white teapot stood in the middle, steam rising from its neck. In front of each person sat a small teacup. The monster lowered herself into the stolen chair, slapping the pile of paper lazily down on the table.

"What are those?" Caitlyn asked, lowering her cup.

"My balance papers. From the looks of it the summoner's feel my abilities are a tad to powerful. It also has to do with allowing lower-ranked summoners access to me," Celene said, leaning in to read, her fingers sinking into her black bedhead.

"I didn't know you worked that way," Alistar said. Caitlyn put her hand over her mouth, embarrassed the crude joke made her smile. Celene turned her head up and sideways to look at the bull. Her face was blank. He shrugged. A pair of fingers as thick as Celene's arms very carefully and slowly pinched the teacup's curved handle. He lifted it with care to his nose and sniffed it once. The force of the inhale caused some tea to escape onto the table. He lowered it to his lips and sipped. Both women watched intently with amused fascination. Caitlyn was the first to look away.

"I'm sorry I don't have a third cup," she said, taking another small sip.

"It's fine, I wouldn't want to make a mess on this form anyways," Celene answered, her eyes walking along the lines of text.

"Too late for that," Caitlyn smirked.

"Hmm?" Celene didn't look up.

"Look," Caitlyn lowered the cup to the table, leaning in. Her fingertip hovered next to a small brown blotch in the form's upper left corner. "What's this?" She asked, pointing. Celene followed the finger with her eyes to the offending blotch.

"Good eye," she said, lifting the paper to examine it more closely. Alistar leaned in to see what was happening. Celene lifted the paper towards him

"I'm a detective," Caitlyn said, a bit of pride leaking into her voice as she leaned back in her chair.

"Where?" Alistar asked, squinting his black eyes at the paper.

"By my thumb, big guy." Celene answered. He stared for a moment, then spotted it. He leaned out again. Celene lowered the form in front of herself again, inspecting the offending mark.

"It's just a speck. Don't worry about it," he said. His huge fingers gripped the teapot again, gently pouring himself another cup. Celene rubbed her thumb on the mark. It smudged into a small streak, leaving some under her nail. She looked at it hard, raising her thumb to her mouth. She tasted it carefully.

"It's chocolate," Celene said, surprise leaking into her voice. Both Alistar and Caitlyn looked at her. A worried look sank onto her face. She didn't own any chocolate, nor had she eaten any since before she arrived. It simply shouldn't be there.

"Is something wrong?" Caitlyn asked, noticing Celene's expression. Celene looked at her, then to the form.

"Excuse me for a bit, I need to go check on something." Celene stood, not waiting for them to ask what was going on. Form in hand, she walked quickly from the hall. Caitlyn and Alistar's eyes followed her out. Alistar closed his eyes and shrugged, raising his cup to his lips again. The shrug caused him to spill the tea.

"Dammit!" He exclaimed as the hot liquid landed on his leg.

Celene marched towards her door, her eyes noting the new, shining plaque that sat on it. She pushed her door open, not bothering to close it as she began to scour her room. Someone had invaded her space. Celene owned nothing of value. She wracked her brain, trying to think of who it might have been. _Maybe it was Twitch,_ she thought. The rat seemed to like shiny objects, she recalled from earlier that week. She felt her lips split into a smile at the idea of the rat feeding himself expensive chocolates. The imaginary Twitch looked towards her, he raised his eyebrows sensually. Celene vigorously shook her head.

"What the fuck was that, brain?!" She said aloud, frowning. Celene looked to her window; she kept it open. She began a process of elimination in her head. Whoever it was, they had to be nimble enough to get through her window or pick her lock, had to take enough interest to bother breaking in in the first place, and had to be careless enough to have chocolate on their fingers. Something caught her eye as she examined her open window. Celene stood on her toes, reaching out above her window, feeling something thin brush her finger. She coiled it around her pinky and pulled. Her hand returned to view. In it was a nearly three foot red hair.

"Heh," she snickered to herself. Why would Katarina, of all people, bother breaking into her room, considering she was still alive? She looked out her open door. Time to pay the assassin a visit. Celene strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She marched towards the hall door for the second time in an hour.

Celene smiled. Her walk reminded her of how Garen seemed to march everywhere. She put her arms straight at her sides. The hair clutched in her hand, she turned her eyes forward and attempted to make her jaw look square. The door in front of her opened. She passed through the gap in the doors without question.

"Good day, fellow Demacian, isn't it great to live in this fabulous city?" Celene said in the deepest, noblest voice she could muster with a salute. She passed a now very confused Twisted Fate and turned towards the Noxian hall. She burst out laughing to herself. The wandering crowd of robed figures below looked up at the cloaked Ionian, laughing hard at nothing as she thrust her weight into the Noxian door and slipped inside as shrugs from the summoners where exchanged.

Celene paused inside the Noxian doors as they creaked shut. Her jaw had began to ache. She rubbed it with her fingers, dropping the Garen impression. Her blue eyes scanned the hall, finally falling on what she had been searching for. She began to walk again, her lips splitting. It was actually rather amusing, Katarina getting caught because she had some chocolate on her fingers and because Caitlyn is OCD. Celene looked at the hair in her hand. She wondered how Katarina put up with having this much hair. Celene cut the hair on her stolen body within hours of acquiring it.

_Maybe that's why she's so fucking angry all the time,_ Celene thought to herself sarcastically as she reached the assassin's door. She noted the multiple layers of cleat marks in the wood. This was definitely hers. Celene stood beside the door, listening for anything inside. A "thunk" a sound came from inside. There was a pause. Thunk. Another pause. Celene stepped in front of the door and knocked. Thunk. The door vibrated slightly as what Celene assumed was a throwing knife struck it. _That was no conventional answer,_ Celene thought, smirking to herself. She could practically feel the assassin staring at the shadows her feet cast under the door, wondering who was bothering her at eight in the morning.

She knocked again. This time there was no response at all. The assassin was expecting her to speak up, giving away her identity.

Celene cleared her throat as masculinely as she could. "Some hapless Demacians told me that the leader of the growing city of Firecrotch lives within these walls," Celene said, returning again to her Garen impression.

Celene placed her hands on her hips, looking off to the side, as if staring nobly into the distance. Bare feet hit the floor. The knob twisted and the door flew open, revealing Katarina standing in the doorway, anger blasted across her face. She looked down, expecting the person bothering her to be taller. Spotting Celene, her expression changed from anger to confusion, to worry, then back to anger. The door slammed shut. Celene heard a lock click into place. She relaxed her muscles, inhaling and appearing on the other side of the wooden door. Katarina screamed in surprise at the sudden flash of blue light, her hands shooting to her waist, groping for knives that lay embedded in her ceiling.

"You didn't tell me what you thought of my Garen impression," Celene said, leaning her back on Katarina's door, her arms crossed. Katarina's eyes flicked from Celene to the cutlass that lay on the floor in front of her. Celene kicked it casually. The weapon clattered across Katarina's wooden floor, coming to rest at her feet. She found the girl's confidence infuriating. Katarina wondered if she was strong enough to pin the Ionian to her door. Celene, looking away from the assassin, running her blue eyes around her room. _Katarina's dwelling really tells a story,_ she thought to herself. The ceiling and door were torn to shreds. Her window had a bookcase pushed in front of it, the shelves facing outwards towards the garden. There was a broken mirror to the right of her feet, a near identical one next to it, facing the wall. In the corner the room was an empty wooden box, surrounded by tiny crumpled pieces of paper. Her eyes returned to the assassin, who stood perfectly still, her expression surprisingly blank. Finally she spoke.

"What the fuck do you want..." Her voice low, she looked straight at the intruder.

"I just thought it was strange that you snuck into my room, left chocolate fingerprints on my paperwork, and I'm still alive," Celene stated coolly.

"We could fix that right here," Katarina threatened. Celene pulled the red hair taut between her hands. She held the strand in front of her left eye, the soft glow making it visible.

"I'll take that as a confession," Celene said teasingly at the assassin. Katarina tensed, knowing she had been caught. "But you didn't answer my question- why didn't you kill me? I was sleeping, it would have been easy." Her blue eyes turned to assassin's green ones. Celene could see the soft glow of her eyes reflected in the glaring eyes of Katarina. The effect was rather interesting. Katarina was silent; she had been pushed into a corner. She debated simply stabbing the Ionian woman. Swain was going to have her head... If he ever found out. Celene noted Katarina's ponderous expression. The assassin groaned to herself. She was being forced to speak.

"Because I was ordered not to harm you," Katarina muttered angrily, her eyes breaking from Celene's.

"I'm assuming you also weren't supposed to get caught?" Celene played with the strand of hair in her hands, coiling it around her index finger.

"What do you want from me," Katarina said, her voice shaking as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

"Actually, I should be asking that. You were sent to snoop around. I'm assuming you want some kind of information about me?" Celene shrugged, holding her arms out to her sides. Katarina tensed at the sudden motion. "I don't have any secrets, Katarina. Go ahead, ask me a question." The assassin was now very confused. Her motivation made no sense.

"Why did you come here?" Katarina hesitantly asked. Celene shrugged, taking a step forward towards Katarina. The assassin sank into a stance. Celene passed her, placing her hand on Katarina's bedspread before sitting. She looked at the very confused assassin, still in stance.

"Remember when I said how the two of us were very similar? Before you slapped me?" Celene said calmly. "Well, I want a conversation." Katarina couldn't suppress the groan as it morphed into a scream of frustration. She pulled at her hair and snapped her eyes to Celene. The girl smiled back. Celene patted the space beside her. Katarina glared at Celene's hand, seeing if she could light it on fire. Despite how much she wanted to resist giving in to Celene's demand, the girl was handing her the information Swain wanted on a silver platter. Celene seemed perfectly aware of this, which gave away a lot about her. The girl seemed to simply not care about who knew what when it came to her. Katarina forced the anger to the back of her mind, which crawled and snarled as it went.

"Just what are you, exactly?" Katarina asked slowly, her voice leaning towards neutral. Celene lay back on the assassin's bed. Katarina seemed to drew a breath as Celene splayed her small body out across her personal space. Celene seemed to ponder the question she raised her hand, the blue strands emerging from her thin fingers. They coiled around each other, forming a pair of thin human figures.

"Honestly, if I knew exactly, I would tell you, but I don't." The figures took each others hands, dancing around each other. "Well, I don't die of old age. If my body would die, I seem to zip to the nearest body and take over that." Celene eyed Katarina, her confidence before beginning to make sense to the assassin. "So, it's possible I've been around forever, longer then I can possibly remember, anyways." Celene turned her eyes to the display. One figure lifted the other, its leg extending unnaturally as the strand remained connected to Celene's finger.

"Now, if you don't mind, let's make this into a game. We'll take turns," Celene said cheerfully. Katarina felt the anger in the back of her mind crawl its way forward. She pushed it back again. Celene could simply get up and leave, leaving the assassin with her more dreaded alternatives of trying to retrieve the information from her herself.

"Fine.." She said through gritted teeth. Katarina suddenly regretted bingeing on all her chocolate.

"Great!" Celene exclaimed happily. She sat up with a jolt, making Katarina jump backwards. Celene reached her hand up, the figures disappearing. A line of blue extended itself towards the group of throwing knives above Katarina's pillow and wrapped itself around one. Feeling her stomach

protest, Katarina watched as the tendril loosed her personal property from the ceiling and drew it downward to the Ionian's hand. Celene turned her head towards the incredibly uncomfortable looking redhead, feeding the part of her that took a near sexual joy in invading people's personal space.

_She's nervous because of what I am_, Celene guessed.

"Have you ever been in love, Katarina?" The question casually rolled off her lips, no expression following. Katarina felt her eyes go as wide as saucers as the question grated over her ears. Visibly wincing, Katarina lunged at Celene, her hand wrapping around her neck, slamming her into her bedspread. She tried as hard as she could to keep herself under control. Celene lay still, her expression unchanged. She could think of a thousand things to say to the assassin, considering how this would look should somebody get past Katarina's locked door. Celene decided stilling her tongue was a better idea; she was enjoying this far too much to see it burst into flames now. Katarina felt her hand loosen around Celene's neck. Katarina forced her brain at gunpoint to accept the question. She pondered, then pondered what the feeling actually was. Nothing seemed to stick out. She felt her hand release Celene, a large red mark remaining where it had been. The assassin straightened herself up, her face burning. Katarina was using every ounce of her self-control to keep from strangling the girl.

"Get out..." Katarina finally managed. Celene knew her little game with the assassin's head had come to a close. Celene shrugged, stood, and strode over to the assassin's scar covered door. Her small hands undid the lock and wrapped around the knob. She looked over her shoulder at the assassin. Katarina stood more ridged then normal, staring intensely at the spot where Celene had been.

"Are you ok?" The Ionian asked, Katarina's eyes snapping to her with a glare on par with Riven's.

"GET OUT!" She screamed. Celene nodded at her, the sadistic conversationalist in her refusing to show its face. Celene placed the throwing knife on top of Katarina's dresser, bowed softly, and stepped out of her room. Katarina stood shaking. Something about the newcomer made her beyond furious. For the first time in a long time, Katarina pondered how to solve a problem without stabbing it. Killing Celene would mean giving up her body. For once in her life, violence was out of the question. Katarina groaned to herself.

The Redhead eventually decided it was best to try and distract herself. She looked around from something to do. Her green eyes fell on the brand-new mirror facing her wall. Katarina, jumping at the chance to distract herself, leaned in and lifted the mirror from her wall. She turned it in her hands. An enraged-looking woman with red hair and green eyes looked out at her as if upset that her home had been picked up and turned to face the room. Katarina saw herself frown back at her from the mirror. She couldn't remember the last time her refection looked different. She looked into the mirror for several minutes. Her chest was starting to feel empty as one of Katarina's rarest emotions showed its face.

_Am I... Lonely? _She asked her reflection in her head. The very idea annoyed her. She was an assassin, she shouldn't need others to make herself feel meaningful. Katarina tore her eyes from the mirror, setting it on top of her bookshelf. She turned, wrestling with the combination of rarely-seen emotions that burned in her chest. _Maybe I should ask for help. _The voice flicked through her head timidly and she felt her anger flare at the idea. She threw the voice to the angry beast in the back of her mind.

A knock came from the door behind her. Katarina whirled around, snatching her cutlass from her floor.

Her fingers wrapped around the knob as she drew the weapon with a scrape. Katarina flung the door open. A monster of a different sort "stood" before her. The monster's snake-like eyes fell to the weapon, then walked there way up Katarina's body to her face.

"Expecting somebody?" Cassiopeia said, the smallest hint of tease in her tone. Katarina lowered the weapon. She sighed, a look of surprise spreading itself across her sister's face.

"No... I was hoping it was someone nobody would miss, through," Katarina dropped the weapon which clattered to the floor. Cassiopeia was on full alert now as she slithered into Katarina's room, pushing the door shut with the tip of her snakelike lower body. Katarina remained motionless, her anger bleeding away. She almost wished it would come back; the rest of her heart was more pained in its absence. Katarina looked at her sister, remembering the day she had changed. All of the ideals of Noxus she had been taught since she was a kid, all of her conditioning, all of her experience seemed useless in the face of the emotions she had near no comprehension of.

"Kitty, sit down," Cassiopia said, the worry now bleeding into her voice. She had never seen her sister so sad-looking; normally, the more violent counterpart emotion was prominent in the assassin and she was left to be. She moved to her sister, her taloned fingers closing around her shoulders as softly as she could, pulling her into a sitting position on her bed. "Talk to me, what's bothering you?" Katarina sat unresponsive. The assassin's mind felt blank, feeling next to nothing. The taloned hands wrapped around her midsection, interlacing their fingers together, pulling Katarina into a hug.

"Who am I turning to stone, Kitty?" Cassiopeia's voice was an odd mix of tones, sympathy, pity, protectiveness and even a hint of anger. Katarina felt her brain crawl forward, pondering the tone. She felt odd. When Celene left with her questions, the assassin had felt very exposed. Something about the talon-fingered embrace made her feel safe. She hesitantly lifted her arms, putting them around Cassiopeia's scaly shoulders.

"You don't need to do anything," said Katarina, feeling the words leave her lips, feeling almost like they scraped against her teeth as they left. Cassiopeia now looked very surprised- her sister had just discouraged action. The assassin felt something in the back of her head scream forth, clawing and biting as it came. Biting at the other emotions that had taken hold of her. As it reached the front of her mind, Katarina blinked. Her face beginning to feel hot, she couldn't believe how she had just felt, how Celene had got inside her head and twisted her up.

"On second thought," Katarina said, Cassiopeia smiled at her. Normally, her cursed sister avoided her for fear of the sharpened words that the assassin hid behind her lips. At the moment, however, she was happy to see her returning to "normal". Cassiopeia had no intention of actually harming anybody; what she had said was an attempt to put a mood-recovering mental image into her sisters head. Whomever had upset her being turned to a statue and shattered seemed to level her mood.

"Cass, I would like you to meet someone," Katarina said, crossing her legs, the aura of confidence that normally radiated from her like an odor returning. Cassiopeia could see her sister's mind working on something devilish behind her green eyes, something she herself couldn't do.

"Who?" Cassiopeia asked, she was intrigued. Katarina was someone who would much prefer to solve her own problems through her own sadistic methods. The only reason Cassiopeia could think of for her behavior was a problem she was unable to solve. The two locked eyes. They were very different, almost never getting along, but at the moment their brains seemed to work as one. Katarina reached for the throwing knives embedded in her ceiling. She pulled the weapons loose, laying them next to her. Katarina flicked her wrist, sending a knife into the ceiling again with a thunk.

"The new champion, the Ionian with the blue eyes," Katarina said, not turning her eyes away from the ceiling as she sent a second knife into it with a thunk. Cassiopeia remembered the note from Swain that she had gotten a few days earlier, telling her to observe the Ionian when given the chance to do so.

"Swain sent me a note about her, he told me to keep an eye on her," Cassiopeia said. Katarina paused, turning her head. She looked the gorgon in the eyes. "I haven't bothered yet, she didn't seem like anything special. I'm assuming I'm wrong about her?" Cassiopeia finished as her sister turned back to her knives, placing another next to the first two. Katarina sighed, and began to explain everything. She started with their meeting at the Finest of the Fleet years back and worked her way up to what had just happened. Katarina's speech slowed down as she reached the part in her story were Celene had kissed her. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve before stopping her explanation.

"My, my, she takes an interest in you, doesn't she?" Cassiopeia questioned, her teasing tone returning. She caught the assassin rub her lips on her sleeve.

"Was that your first kiss?" Cassiopeia asked, half out of honest curiosity, half because the opportunity to tease her socially inexperienced sibling was just to ripe. Katarina twisted, sending the knife she was beginning to flick spinning over Cassiopeia's head and onto the floor with a clatter. The two looked at each other again. Cassiopeia couldn't remember the last time she had seen the assassin's face as red as her hair. Cassiopeia shrugged, closing her eyes. Katarina lay frozen, unsure what she had said to give her secret away.

"I know the rest, Swain told me what he saw." Cassiopeia said, leaning in slightly. "If it makes you feel better, he didn't see the kiss." Katarina frowned slightly. Normally, she would be furious, but the beast in the back of her mind failed to react. She was feeling tired suddenly.

"You don't think it's sweet at all?" Cassiopeia asked her sister. Katarina blinked, trying to comprehend what she meant.

"She did it because she knew it would get a reaction from me," Katarina said, her voice rising. Cassiopeia looked at her cautiously, preparing for anything her sister might say. She wanted to help, but experience had taught her that Katarina simply didn't understand a lot of social implications.

"It doesn't sound like that from how you explained it," Cassiopeia shot back at her redheaded sister. "It sounds like she was attempting to make the process of stealing your body more pleasant, to me," the gorgon mused, pondering how she had tried to romanticize the idea. She smiled. _From a twisted perspective, the idea is very cute, _the gorgon thought to herself.

"That's because you're a whore," Katarina said flatly. Cassiopeia felt a stab in her chest at the words. She was expecting this, but it hurt anyways. Her eyes narrowed at her sister, who was provoking her out of embarrassment. _Childish of her,_ Cassiopeia thought.

"Why she chose you is beyond me, however, your interests are so linear. I don't understand how she could really relate," Cassiopeia fired back. There was a silence as the two glared daggers at each other.

Cassiopeia was the first to overcome the snarling beast in her head. "You want me to talk to her?" She said, a smile splitting her lips, revealing a pair of long fangs. Katarina smiled back, considerably more sadistic, as her anger was redirected towards the subject of her story. Katarina nodded, hopping to her feet. She began to change her clothing, just in case for what ever reason she was summoned. Cassiopeia turned away from her out of respect for her sister's personal space. She narrowed her eyes at the mirror on Katarina's dresser- she hated mirrors. She looked around, spotting the broken mirror on Katarina's floor.

"Who gave you this?" Cassiopeia asked, lifting the intact mirror from the shelf. She knew her sister well enough to know that last thing she would do with the League's allowance is go into the city below and buy a mirror. Katarina paused for a moment, beginning to set her throwing knives in her belt. The assassin's eyes flashed as she was reminded who gave her the mirror.

"That asshole, Beyal," Katarina spat, glancing down at her exposed chest with a frown as she fit the last of her knives into the belt and grabbed the top piece of her leather armor. Cassiopeia didn't look at her, knowing she wasn't finished.

"The summoner? He's one of the nicest guys I know. What's wrong with him?" Cassiopeia said confused. Katarina didn't answer. Cassiopeia could feel her glare against the back of her head. "Is he an asshole because of the mirror, or did he do something else?" She asked.

"The mirror," Katarina answered flatly, seating the pair of cutlasses on her back. Cassiopeia turned to her with an inquisitive expression.

"You think he's trying to say you're ugly, don't you, Kitty?" Cassiopeia smirked over her shoulder at her sister. Katarina felt a pang of annoyance at the use of her nickname. She glanced down at herself, then looked up at her sister. Cassiopeia couldn't help but smile at how bad a judge of male character her sister was.

"Don't look at me like that, whore. Let's go," Katarina said flatly, pushing her annoyance at Summoner Beyal into the back of her mind. She took a step past her sister, stepping over her tail and picking up the cutlass she had dropped. She pushed the door open, sheathing the weapon. Cassiopeia ignored the comment; in fact, she was getting used to it. She turned and slithered after her sister.

* * *

Celene flicked her eyes along the lines of text in front of her. She was several pages into her chocolate finger-printed form. The monster admitted she wasn't the fastest reader. She scolded herself for not finding out what brand of chocolate Katarina ate while she had the chance- it tasted amazing. Her eyes left the paper, settling on Caitlyn. The woman was reading the form from across the table.

"Do you just sit in here all day?" Celene asked. Turning her eyes back down to the form.

"Yep, the people are the most interesting part of the League, might as well take advantage of it." Caitlyn replied softly, her Piltover accent very prominent. Celene smiled to herself.

"I can agree with you on that," the monster said, not turning her eyes upward. The third chair at the table was pulled out, protesting against the floor with a scrape. Celene looked up to find Summoner Beyal seating himself in the chair where Alistar had previously been. Celene met his eyes. He bowed in his seat.

"I wanted to talk to about maybe getting some practice summoning you," he said flatly, his tone told her he almost expected to be turned down. Celene felt herself smirk at him. He wanted to get ahead of the curve.

"As long as I'm not busy, my I ask why you need practice?" Celene said, calling the summoner out. She was fully intent on exposing his lack of confidence for her and Caitlyn to see.

"Marten told me that summoning you is strange, like summoning two people, or something along those lines. I wanted to make sure I could get it down," Beyal answered, keeping his attention on Celene. Caitlyn was eyeing him over her teacup.

A sound carried its way across the hall, cleated boots meeting tile. Celene turned her attention from Beyal towards the offending noise. It was Katarina, fast approaching with a serpentine woman in tow who Celene didn't recognize. More heads turned; Caitlyn and Beyal were now looking as well. Katarina shot Beyal an angry glare. The pair reached the table. Celene twisted, sitting backwards in her chair, her arms and chin resting on the chair's back. Her blue eyes flicked from Katarina to the gorgon that escorted her.

"May we?" The gorgon gestured to the table. Her voice was higher then Katarina's and had a teasing hint to it. Celene nodded, extending her hand over the top of the chair towards the gorgon. She took it, her taloned fingers wrapping around Celene's thin ones with care. The woman was being very careful not to cut her. The two met eyes, the gorgon's eyes unsurprisingly resembling those of a snake, the tall window-like pupils framed by a faint blue glow, similar to Celene's.

"I am Celene. It is nice to meet you.." She trailed off.

"Cassiopeia," the gorgon nodded. She liked this woman already. As their hands left each other, Katarina roughly grabbed the chair from the table next to them and slid it next to Celene. A twinge of surprise sprang up at the assassin choosing to sit next to her. She ignored it.

"Oh, like the constellation," the monster said to Cassiopeia. "Very pretty," she complimented, gesturing to the table. Cassiopeia slithered around the table, coming to stop on the open side as Katarina placed herself in the chair. Cassiopeia's long, snakelike tail lay behind Beyal's chair, his eyes flicking from her, to Katarina who was angry at him, then to Celene who got joy out of watching others squirm.

"So what brings you two?" Celene asked. The question aimed directly at the redhead next to her. A glare was her answer. Caitlyn saw it, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Cassiopeia eyed the form hanging from Celene's fingers, the little brown smudge on it sticking out. She remembered a similar stains from her childhood. Celene watched the gorgon woman put two and two together, a grin spouting on her face.

"My sister wanted to apologize for breaking into your room," Cassiopeia said flatly, she shot Katarina glance across the table. Katarina understood the look, having seen it many times before. Anger flared up in her chest.

_You bitch, I'll get you for this, _she thought, forcing her eyes to Celene. The girl was looking at the assassin, her smirk nearly too large for her face. _Your words, swallow them,_ the expression screamed. Katarina forced her mouth open, about to utter the words she had only every said to her father. Celene put her hand up.

"I broke into yours too, remember?" Celene said. Katarina had failed to get that far in her story; Cassiopeia had stopped her before the days events could be relayed. She went over Cassiopeia's statement again in her head.

"Wait, sister?" Celene asked, surprised. Cassiopeia and Katarina looked near identical; when Celene had first taken interest in her, the assassin was the masculine one of the pair.

Cassiopeia nodded. "I was cursed. I don't really want to talk about it." She kept her eyes locked on Celene. Celene looked at her sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, I'm assuming if you're apologizing for her, Katarina told you about our history," Celene said, returning the subject to normal. Celene wondered if Katarina's whole family was just a collection of interesting people. She made a mental note to figure the general out if he was ever found. Celene stole a glance at Caitlyn, who had propped her leather-heeled boots up on the table and was leaning back in her chair. She looked very amused by the conversation unfolding front of her.

Celene turned to the assassin. "You don't need to say anything to me if you don't want to." Katarina bit the inside of her lip- the girl was trying to accommodate her. The assassin wondered if she could slap just as hard with her left hand as she could with her right. Opening her mouth to speak, Katarina refused to give Celene the victory.

"I'm sorry for sneaking into your room." Uttering the words seemed to hurt the assassin. "But you're a nosy bitch," she added on grudgingly, causing Celene burst out laughing, Katarina sank slightly into her chair. The hall's attention was drawn to their table. Katarina wanted to stand and scream them all down, scare them away, but she was trapped. Celene's laugh dying out, she sputtered out a cough and turned her eyes to Cassiopeia. The gorgon was trying as hard as she could to hide a smile, she was enjoying this just as much as Celene was. Katarina sat up in her chair again, avoiding Celene's eyes, instead deciding to glare daggers at Beyal. He returned a confused look to her. A small silence followed.

"Tea?" Caitlyn asked Cassiopeia casually, braking the awkwardness before it could really start.

"No, thank you, I think I'm going to return to my room. Too many eyes staring at me," Cassiopeia said, unwrapping herself from the table. She slithered from the room, her hands behind her as she went. Katarina watched her go but remained where she was.

"Waiting for her to go so you can strangle me?" Celene said casually to Katarina as Cassiopeia's tail left the hall. The assassin looked at her. _God, I hate this woman so much, _she thought.

"Not exactly," Katarina shot back. Celene raised an eyebrow at her, a smile on her lips. Katarina groaned internally, realizing what she had just walked into. Celene gave a flirty expression, making the assassin insanely uncomfortable before she turned to Beyal again.

"So, what time did you want to do this practice," she asked. Beyal shrugged, carefully turning his gaze from Caitlyn, around Katarina and to Celene.

"I have a lot on my plate at the moment- Ionia and Bilgewater got into a border dispute, and it's likely it will be settled here, so I'll let you know later when I have things figured out," he answered. Katarina wanted to slam her face into the table as a twinge of jealousy sprung up in her chest.

_Why did he want to summon her? _Her mind returned to Cassiopeia's words before they left for the dining hall. Again, she felt the urge to slam her head into something. She glared at Beyal, he noticed, timidly turning his eyes away from her. Her chest burned. _Am I too one dimensional? S_he asked herself, the lonely feeling creeping into her heart again. She furiously pushed it back.

"I'm going to excuse myself, if you're finished, Beyal. Katarina, may I speak to you alone?" Celene said, standing. Caitlyn looked at her as if she had just thrown a rock at a bear. She ignored it, motioning for Katarina to follow. Katarina looked at her, confused, but took the opportunity to leave the table. She hopped to her feet, the pair leaving the hall quickly.

"What did you do to piss her off so much?" Caitlyn turned to Beyal and asked. He looked at her and shrugged.

"No fucking idea," Beyal answered, getting up to leave.

"You like her, don't you?" Caitlyn said teasingly, a smile splitting her lips. Celene was rubbing off on her, she thought.

"I sympathize with her. She's complicated," he glared at the woman for invading his privacy and turned to leave. Caitlyn snickered to herself and brought the teacup to her lips.

"Want my advice?" Caitlyn took a sip from the cup. "She likes chocolate."

* * *

The two women reached Celene's door. The monster pulled it open, gesturing for Katarina to enter. The assassin just wanted to the day to be over. Everything had become far too personal for her taste. She didn't like to think about the inner workings of her mind and other people's- it made her uneasy. Celene closed the door behind her, keeping her hand on the knob.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry, honestly. I shouldn't have tried to delve into your life. It isn't my place." Her face had softened as if she had been acting. Katarina looked hard at her. Celene sighed, letting go of the knob and sliding down the door. The girl's blue eyes lit the room softly as she stared at her feet for a moment.

"What do you want," Katarina asked, crossing her arms. She looked at the girl pitilessly. Celene seemed to shy away from her stare. She rubbed her eyes with her cloak, keeping her eyes away from Katarina as if seeing the woman would burn her.

"I honestly don't know, I just float about from day to day, invading others' lives to keep myself entertained. I contribute nothing," Celene said, she knew was talking to totally the wrong person. She didn't want her sympathy; she wanted Katarina to understand why she had done everything she had to her.

"When I hurt you before, when I gave you your scar, when I took your body, when I kissed you," Celene began, trailing off before finding her voice again. "I was jealous, jealous that you can have an existence nearly carefree like mine, but with the ability to leave it if you want," she finished, sighing. Celene looked up at Katarina, the woman standing with her arms crossed at her chest, listening.

"Don't insult me by misunderstanding my situation," Katarina spoke. "I was taught to do this from a young age, I know little of much else," she grudgingly admitted, not sure what in her brain made her do so. She took a breath, forcing herself to go on.

"The answer is no," Katarina said, looking hard at Celene.

"The answer to what?" Celene asked, confused.

"You asked me if I have ever been in love. The answer is no. People are too afraid of me," Katarina answered, almost sounding sad as she sank into sitting position. The redhead wracked her brain for the reason she was spilling her guts.

"Oh," Celene managed a small smile. "Does that mean I was your first kiss?" There was a sadness in her voice.

"No. My first was from a dying sailor during the invasion of Ionia- it was his last request as the ship burned off the Ionian coast," Katarina admitted again, her throat was starting to hurt. Celene looked almost relieved. The assassin tilted her head slightly in question.

"That doesn't forgive me, I'm assuming," she said, sighing.

"Fuck no." Katarina paused, watching Celene snicker to herself. She felt a twinge of nervousness in her chest, she smothered the life from it. There was no room for such feelings- nothing would prevent any of her actions. Katarina sighed.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asked the monster. Celene smiled a ghostly smile, something Katarina hadn't seen from her yet. The expression was unnerving, like a ghost that had to watch its lover mourn at its grave- happy it was missed, but missing being alive.

"Yes I have, I was in love with an Ionian man in a small village inside the Yellow Valley. He was the village defender, a monk tasked with protecting them from evil spirits. The irony," Celene smiled, "one day he found out- my tendrils show themselves if I'm having very vivid dreams. He tried to kill me, I... I got angry, very angry. He died. I was overcome by grief." Celene turned her eyes from the assassins. "I let myself be captured, too sad to move. They tied me to a pyre and set it ablaze. In my sadness I didn't resist. I wanted to feel the fire deep down, so I burned." Celene whipped her eyes again. "The worst part is that he had a daughter named Earth. When I died, Earth was the closest to me, in my bodilessness I took her and fled into the forest." Celene finished. She looked at her hands, tears now actively streaming down her face.

Katarina looked at the now-sobbing form in front of her, something in her chest telling her to help. The order was primal, almost motherly. She stood, pondering it.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding honest, not like it had before when she had first said the words.

Celene wiped her eyes, glaring at the floor angrily. She didn't want to cry. _This is selfish of me,_ she thought, forcing herself to stop, looking the assassin in her green eyes with her dripping blue ones.

"You know, Riven told me something when I first got here. That I shouldn't seek justice, I should seek peace. Justice is just another word for retribution," Celene said, Katarina gave her an odd look at the mention of Riven's name.

"That woman always did think too much to be a good soldier; she never followed orders," Katarina looked at Celene hard. Celene looked back at her almost offended. "But... The League of Legends is about peace at its very core. It settles disputes with duels, so wars need not be had." The word "war" came out almost distastefully. Celene would have expected Katarina to love the word. "Let me ask you a question, Celene." Celene tilted her head as Katarina used her name.

"Given all that's happened to you, would you ever want to be human instead of a monster?" Katarina asked her slowly.

"Never." Celene said flatly. Katarina looks somewhat surprised.

"Why not?"

"Because there are things that I will do that are good for people. I haven't done them yet. I don't know what they are yet. But they will happen." Celene answered, her smile returning.

"How do you know?" Katarina asked, feeling nosy, but she didn't care. The information was owed to her after the kiss anyways.

"Because forever is a long time," Celene said smiling. She sighed, looking out her window. Katarina nodded, walking past her to leave.

"One second," Celene said as the assassin pulled her door open. Katarina turned and paused.

"Given all that's happened to you, would you ever want to be human instead of a monster?" Celene repeated the question to the assassin. Katarina didn't react to the words.

"No, my life is just to my liking, such a thing is to rare to waste." She stepped from the room. "Remember, like a fish." She closed the door and Celene could hear her cleated combat boots bite the floor as she left. She turned and headed for her bathroom, her eyes meeting themselves in the mirror when she reached it.

"You must be getting tired of hearing me say it by now, but... I'm sorry," Celene spoke to herself, eyeing her short, raggedly-cut hair in the mirror, the black mass barely touching her shoulders.

"It will be long again, long like your fathers was all those years ago, I promise," she finished, spinning on her heel and leaving the room.

**Author's Notes: Now with a bit of backstory coming together we finally begin to get rolling. Rather slow start but a proper setting is important. Thank you all for your criticism and reviews. I read all of them and everything is taken into account. I Hope you enjoyed yourself. Edit: some soft changes based on reviews (THANK YOU!) there is now mention of Celene being OP in her paper work and Cassiopeia is now correctly refered to as a Gorgon, not a a Naga. THank you FishSlayer and Kadaj4538 for you help!**


	5. Inner Workings

**Author's Notes: Thank you everyone for all the reviews and advice! I also want to thank my editor whom received Battlecast Prime Cho'Gath as payment for his services. If anyone spots any mistakes, errors, plot holes, sillynesses please PM me so I can fix them. I want to make this as enjoyable to read as I possibly can. **

Chapter 5

Inner Workings

Celene marched quickly towards the dining hall and the promise of food. Her cloak billowed behind her, revealing her worn traveling clothing. She momentarily debated buying some proper clothing in the city below. Reaching the door, she pushed the idea into the back of her mind for later use. She threw her weight against the heavy door, which swung out before pressing back against her thin shoulder. A thunk came from the other side as an armored hand wrapped itself around the inside of the door and pulled it ajar. Garen stood ridgid on the other side, heavy door pinned in his gauntleted hand. As Celene smiled at him and strode through, he bowed as much as his armor would let him.

"Good morning champion Celene, Eternity's Wings." He released the door. Celene noted the bags under his eyes. Garen blinked. "I was on my way to get some food. Would you like to join me and any of my comrades that might also be doing the same?" His voice boomed. Celene pushed back a yawn and nodded. "Then let us make haste," he replied to the action, pointing dramatically towards the hall.

The dining hall was crowded today, champions and high summoners milling about, heading towards and away from tables with food in their hands. The low roar of mixed chatter hit Celene's ears. Garen passed her, his heavy armor letting off resounding metallic thunks as he marched valently towards the Demacian food vendor. Celene pondered what she wanted to eat in silence. Deciding to try the food that Riven seemed to eat almost exclusively, the Ionian advanced on the vendor with the Ionian cakes on display. Celene had to squeeze by a number of taller summoners on her way to the pastries. After a few moments of struggle, she triumphantly pushed her way out of the crowd and spied the "Demacian" table. Garen was already sitting down, exchanging words with a particularly cheery looking Lux; two other women sat at the table as well. One sported heavy black scale mail armour and deep red, somewhat puffy hair, a pony tail extending from her back trapped within blackish metal rings, long enough to rest on the other woman wore a skin-tight black body sock, similar to what Lux wore to prevent her armor from pinching her skin. She had hair longer then Akali's, tied in several places resting on her lap, a feathery cape and a pair of somewhat tacky red-lensed sunglasses. Garen signaled her with a wave and the three women all looked up at the approaching Ionian, barely five feet high. Reactions were mixed. Lux grinned brightly at her, waving as well. The red-haired woman observed her stoically before turning to Garen and asking something Celene couldn't hear. Garen replied and she nodded. The woman with the glasses had a distasteful look on her face, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"Celene!" Lux exclaimed cheerfully as the monster reached their table. Celene noted she was in what seemed to be an amazing mood as she grabbed a chair and slid it up to the rectangular table, seating herself next to Lux. The woman in the scalemail leaned it, her face impassive. She sniffed Celene audibly. Celene cocked her head at the woman, intrigued. The monster noticed she and this woman were the only ones that were unarmed. Garen had his broadsword on his hip in a large blue sheath, Lux had her baton hanging from a metal loop on her armoured hip. Celene eyed the small dagger hanging next to it that hadn't been there before. The feather-caped woman had a rather complex crossbow mounted on her wrist and a line of shining silver bolts mounted in a rack on the inside of her wrist. A handle with a trigger was pushed up against the underside of the unloaded device. It looked as if it swung downward into the woman's hand. The rest of the device looked to be some sort of automatic loading mechanism. Celene leaned in, examining the interesting weapon. The woman snuck a glare in at her. Nobody but Celene noticed. She shot back with a smirk, extending her small hand through her cloak towards the woman.

"Celene," she said cheerfully. The woman hesitated before taking the Ionian's hand. Celene winced as the woman crushed her fingers.

"Vayne, the Nighthunter." Her voice had an aggressive ring to it. Celene internally groaned- this woman was a monster hunter. The Ionian had been hoping intently no monster hunters were in the League. The woman disliked her on sight, just like any decent monster hunter would- the blue eyes didn't fit. "The League of Legends seems a fitting place for you," Vayne almost snapped at her. By now, the others had noticed the hostility.

"Thank you," Celene said, taking the jab as a compliment, turning her blue eyes from the woman towards woman in scale mail. Her plate was stacked higher then Garen's, with several thick slices of meat from various animals. The woman was eating with surprising speed. She paused, seeing the newcomer to their table watching her. Her eyes flicked from Celene to Garen, not quite sure what to do with the girl's attention focused on her.

"Her name is Shyvana," Lux spoke up from Celene's right. Celene looked at her out of the corner of her eye. The blond haired girl smiled back at her, unnaturally wide. Shyvana had returned to eating.

"So, Lux." The yellow haired girl turned away from the food she was prodding with her fork. Celene ran her eyes down the girl's arm to her plate. The food in question was pork with a mixture of rice, green beans, and potatoes as a side, a very standard Demacian breakfast. "I was thinking I need some new clothing." Celene pulled her cloak back, revealing the worn traveling clothes. "Would you like to accompany me?" Lux leaned in and inspected the clothing. Celene had no idea what the girl was actually examining, but allowed her to continue.

"Garen, is anything happening today that needs my attention?" Lux asked him. He leaned back and thought. It was rather obvious he was trying to think of something for her to do. He raised his finger to the sky dramatically, his mouth open, ready to speak. He paused before lowering his arm and shrugging. Lux nodded at him, turning to Celene and smiling.

"WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN!" The girl leaned in and hugged the monster tightly. Celene tensed up, realizing what she was in for. Lux broke the hug. Leaning out, she gasped to herself, an idea springing to mind. "Maybe we should bring Riven too!" the girl clapped her hands. Celene's eyes widened. Part of her wanted to spare the Exile from what was likely to be a day of attention-drawing, embarrassing, high-energy shopping, but another part wanted to watch Riven try and cope. She hadn't seen the woman in a few days. Celene stole a glance at Vayne, who had her hands over her ears, her eyes shut with a look of extreme discomfort blasted across her face. Celene felt the sadistic asshole in the back of her mind wake up.

"Maybe we should bring Vayne along instead," she said, looking at the woman. Her brown eyes snapped open, glaring poison at the Ionian. Lux turned to her, brightening up even more. She balled her fists at her checks and gasped, smiling at the idea.

"No," Vayne said flatly to the now very hyper Crownguard girl. Lux seemed to wilt a bit. Celene thought for a moment. She handed the girl one of the Ionian pastries from her plate and sank her teeth into one of the others. It was a standard loaf of bread with some kind of sweet cream inside, topped with white sugary frosting. Garen eyed Lux as she clutched the food in her hand. Celene remembered Lux said she couldn't eat certain food. She felt stupid for a moment, but another bite from the pastry instantly solved that.

"No, thank you, I'm full," Lux said politely, placing the pastry back on Celene's plate and flicked her eyes to Garen. The Might of Demacia nodded approvingly and turned back to his food. His plate mirrored Lux's, but was stacked roughly three times as high. Shyvana pushed herself to her feet, pondering something for a moment, her mouth open ready to speak.

"Excuse me?" Her tone turned up slightly at the end of the word, almost as if she was wondering if it was in fact what you say when excuse yourself. She turned towards the vendor and fell forward, her foot catching on the chair leg of a high summoner at the table next to the Demacians. Shyvana fell like a freshly cut tree, bracing herself with her hands so her face didn't slam into the floor. Celene couldn't help but snort at the sight.

Lux squeaked, standing quickly. "Darn it to heck, Shyvana, try to be more careful," she said, pulling the woman to her feet with some effort. The summoners whose chair had tripped her was bowing and frantically apologizing. Celene muffled loud laughter, pressing her hand over her mouth. Celene hadn't noticed how tall Shyvana was- she stood a good head taller then Lux, similar in size to Garen drawn to his full height. She tilted her head and blinked down at the summoner. She turned on her heel and strode towards the vendor like before.

"She says she's sorry," Lux said to the summoner, bowing low. The summoner gave her an odd look, thanked her, then turned back to his now-snickering table. Celene stood, having finished all of her food but the cake Lux had touched. She grabbed it, her hand retreating into her cloak as she stood.

"Lux, shall we?" She said. The girl turned to her and beamed, grabbing her by her hood and dragging Celene from the hall. The second she left the hall, the yellow-haired hyper girl scanned to see if they were alone, not quiet. Summoners meandered about below, but it would do. Lux sighed, her smile still present but much smaller.

"That's hard to keep up for so long," she whispered to Celene, a glint of mischievousness in her blue eyes.

"You were going a tad overboard," Celene agreed with her, nodding. "I honestly don't think we should bother Riven. She enjoys her space."

"She also badly needs new clothes," Lux shot back, advancing on the door to the neutral hall. She pushed against it. Celene pulled Lux from the door softly by her shoulder. She shook her head slowly, Lux eyed her.

"Relax, it will be fun. Here." Celene's cake-clutching hand left her cloak. "I managed to sneak this by your brother." She handed it to Lux, who looked at Celene, unsure of whether or not she should thank the girl. Her eyes flicked to the summoners below, then to Celene, then to the cake clutched in her hands. She raised it to her lips, her eyes on the summoners below, and bit it. Lux blinked, swallowing and taking a bite. Celene watched the girl in amusement as she wolfed the pastry.

"I hate Demacian food," Lux muttered, removing her silk glove and wiping the crumbs from her lips with her hand before replacing it. Celene gestured down the stairs. Lux smiled brightly, beginning her descent towards the crowd of robed figures. Celene watched her for a moment. The monster sat on the stone hand rail, sliding down, passing Lux, her cloak billowing behind her. She hopped from the rail, her cloak settling around her shoulders as she turned smirking at Lux. Lux huffed and puffed out her cheeks at the girl's "look what I can do that you can't, haha".

"You are such a pain," Lux shot at her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Celene closed her eyes and shrugged, the motion reminding her of Alistar. The pair advanced through the hall. Summoners stepped around them respectfully as they made their way to the large double doors. Lux and Celene pushed their weight up against one, slipping inside as it slammed shut behind them. They stood at the far end of the entrance hall. To Celene's right was the room she had entered to get her reflection. The hall was far more crowded then the rest of the institute. People from the city below could come and go from this part of the institute freely, and aside from the squad of robed pikemen, the room was devoid of any institute personnel. Heads turned as the pair of women descended to the massive room's stone floor.

"So, where is a good place to buy clothes?" Celene turned to the light mage. Lux was grinning.

"You'll see," Lux said, her grin touching her ears.

"Oh, fuck," Celene muttered, smirking at the girl. She wondered briefly if she was a masochist.

Celene and Lux stopped at the top of the institute's massive stone staircase. Large pillars at their flanks held up a stone slab of a roof. The building was rather out of place in the large village of wooden houses and establishments. Flags from every city-state flew proudly in the days high winds. Lux blinked, hopping her way down the stairs. Below them stood a large courtyard with a fountain, a stone summoner in the middle, his arms stretched sideways, pushing apart a Demacian and Noxian oldier.

"I hate that statue," Lux muttered, ripping her eyes from it. The girl began to scan the stalls. Everyone in the square seemed to be looking at them. Celene felt a bit nervous, not used to being stared at en masse. She drew her hood up, following the mage towards a street on the left of the square. The two turned the corner into the street, a large clothing store flanking them to their right. Celene eyed the display windows full of dresses in bright colors. To her horror, Lux turned into the store.

"Hello! Welcome to mai-" The young woman behind the counter trailed off. The two women looked at each other. She straightened her posture, removing her elbows from the counter. "How may I help you today, Crownguard Luxanna?" She bowed nervously. Lux tilted her head at her curiously.

"My friend needs some proper clothing," Lux said, gesturing to the cloak-shrouded Celene. The woman looked her up and down, her hand on her chin. She left the counter, closing the distance between her station and the Ionian. The woman was tall, with fair brown hair and hazel eyes. She leaned in, stealing a look at the face under the long brown hood.

"Can you remove your cloak?" She asked respectfully. Celene nodded, unpinning the heavy brown fabric from the simple brooch and swirling it from her shoulders to rest inside the crook of her elbow. A thin, barely five foot, blue-eyed Ionian woman in her early twenties stood before the hazel-eyed shopkeeper. Celene suddenly felt very chilly, not realizing how warm the cloak actually was until it was gone.

"My, my, you're pretty," she complimented. Celene bit the inside of her lip. Earth was very pretty. The compliment felt as if someone complimented the skill of a painter, then the painting in question was stolen. She looked at Lux, seeming to be feeding off her uncomfortableness, like some kind of ditzy blonde social vampire. A grin was plastered on the mage's face. This was payback for invading her space, Celene realized.

"I'm going to take some measurements if that's okay." The woman produced a tape measure from the pocket of her brown apron. Celene stood still while she worked, allowing herself to be repositioned like a mannequin to suit what ever she was doing. As the minutes lagged by, Celene felt a growing numbness in her arm as the shopkeeper left it extended for several minutes. Celene lowered it to her side. The woman absentmindedly pushed it back into position. Celene blinked- the woman was measuring her height, why did it matter were her arm was? The monster rolled her blue eyes. Lux giggled from her right. Celene stared off into space. She imagined Katarina going through a similar process, a smirk splitting her lips. The tape measure wrapped around her chest, shocking her from her trance. Celene looked down towards the source of the distraction. The woman was pulling the tape measure tight around her breasts, her eyebrows raising at what Celene imagined was some remarkably small number.

"Done? I don't need anything custom, I could just look around," Celene finally said, unintentionally letting on that she was uncomfortable. The shopkeeper looked at her blankly, then to Lux. Celene understood- the royalty was in charge. Lux ran her silk glove over her chin before nodding to the woman. Celene sighed, sneaking a glare at the girl. Lux pushed herself from the wall.

"That's for delving into my life," she whispered to Celene as she passed. The shopkeeper bowed as the girls left to explore.

"The lights of Demacian justice?" Celene asked the mage with a smirk. Lux glared at her sideways.

"The very same," Lux replied, a small smile on her lips. "What kind of clothing do you want?"

"It doesn't matter, as long as it's warm, non-revealing, and doesn't hinder movement," Celene answered, her eyes falling on a blue hooded robe top. "I wonder what Earth would want to wear," Celene muttered, unable to clearly remember what the girl had been wearing when they met.

"Who?" Lux enquired, tilting her head.

"Earth- this is her body," Celene said. Lux looked away, uncomfortable with the topic. "I actually needed to talk to someone about it, but I didn't know whether to ask you or Riven," Celene continued, a twinge of nervousness in her chest. Lux looked at her inquisitively, sensing the topic was about to turn very serious. "I need to talk to her... Saying I'm sorry in the mirror isn't good enough. I need to hear what she has to say."

"And you need someone's body to do that," Lux finished for her, looking around the shop to make sure no one was listening. The shop was empty aside from the two girls, the keeper and a pair of small feet behind a changing curtain. Celene looked away from the mage. Lux was not keen on the idea.

"It's okay if you don't want to, I COMPLETELY understand," Celene said, the guilt very obvious in her voice. Lux looked sympathetically at the Ionian. Celene found herself wondering if the look was aimed at her or Earth. Lux could only imagine how the trapped girl must feel. She remembered the girl's broken fearful expression as her possessed body pulled the Ionian into her arms. Lux vigorously shook her head, sending blond hair everywhere.

"I'll think about it. But on the topic of clothing, given your ethnicity, why don't you try a kimono?" Lux pointed to the form-fitting ceremonial outfit. Celene smiled softly at the mage, eyeing the dress and pulling it from the shelf on which it sat folded. She slipped behind the second curtain, tossing her cloak on the bench, undoing the clasps on her outfit, peeling the heavy fabric downward. Celene looked down at herself, she was remarkably pale. Deciding to leave her chest wrapped out of respect, she stepped out of the heavy, worn, cloth chaps. Celene shivered and grabbed the kimono.

She narrowed her eyes at the puncture scar that blemished her left shoulder, a neat split adorning her ivory skin. It was oblong in shape, matching the width of the thin bladed weapon that had made it, the same weapon she had later traced down Katarina's face in spite. A loud metallic clatter came from the space next to Celene's. With a blink, her attention and train of thought were both derailed and crashed to reality.

"Hughh," a sigh followed, then a scrape as something heavy was lifted. Celene couldn't help but pause at the circumstances. Her lips split as she fiddled with the clothing, slowly figuring out how to get it on.

"Riven?" Celene said softly, unsure if the Exile was comfortable with Lux knowing she was there. The sounds of life from the stall next to Celene's completely ceased at the mention of the name. Celene could practically see the shy woman standing frozen. There was a pause. Celene pulled the kimono up over her shoulders. The garment was very restrictive around her ankles.

"I heard you two talking." The voice was definitely Riven's, the soft ring was unmistakable. Celene could hear the woman draw a nervous shaking breath as she slipped her sandals back on. "I want to help, but I don't know how."

"You don't have to," Celene said to the woman comfortingly.

"I want to." The words came quickly. "You need to make peace with this woman." Celene sighed. "Luxanna doesn't need to go through that experience a second time. I will do it for her." Celene blinked with surprise- Riven's tone was a mix of seriousness, pride, and pure dread. The guilt washed over the Ionian's body, as if it had been dumped on her with a bucket. She heard footsteps as Riven left the stall. A small gasp followed as Lux spotted her.

"Hughh." The sound was becoming very familiar

"YOU LOOK SO LOVELY!" Celene could hear Lux's boots tapping the floor. Celene decided that leaving the stall so soon after the Exile might cause Lux to fall into a coma. The promise of the easily excitable mage's reaction proved too much. Celene parted the curtain, the kimono preventing her from walking properly. In front of her stood an Exile clad in the blue garment Celene had eyed earlier with the hood drawn up. Lux was right in her reaction.

"How do I look?" Celene asked, spreading her arms and spinning so Lux could see all of her.

–

Katarina groaned as she knocked on the wooden door with the back of her gloved hand. There was a pause. As the knob turned and the heavy oak door swung lazily open, a pair of red eyes peeped out, taking note of the assassin as the door became fully ajar.

"I've been expecting you. Please, come in," Swain said, gesturing the assassin into his room. The new Grand General of Noxus pushed the door shut with the tip of his wooden cane and turned to the redhead. Katarina looked at him, the dread leaking into her gaze.

"Please, don't look at me like that, Sinister Blade, I have no intention of scolding you or anything similar." He leaned forward on his cane, gesturing to a very finely crafted table and chairs with his head. On the table stood a bottle of very expensive-looking wine, a notebook with quill, and a pair of reading glasses. Katarina sighed- she disliked how accommodating Swain always tried to be, preferring the straight to the point approach her father had used- classically Noxian. He hobbled over to the chair. She followed, passing him quickly and sitting. Swain carefully lowered himself into the chair. Katarina looked at him as the Grand General reached for the bottle of wine, uncorking it and tipping it towards the glass on Katarina's side of the table.

"So, what did you learn?" Swain asked, looking her in the eyes as he poured himself a glass.

Katarina inhaled through her nose. She rested her elbows on the table and exhaled. She began to recount the events involving Celene, working around the kiss. Swain was listening intently, scrawling inside the notebook with the crow feather quill. Katarina finished. She sighed and lifted the glass to her lips, finding it empty. She reached a gloved hand for the bottle, her fingers wrapping tightly around its glass neck. The bottle refused to move, held in place by Swain's hand. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You have questions unasked, Sinister Blade," he said impassively, releasing the wine bottle.

"Since when do you willingly answer questions? But I do. Why ask me to do this instead of Talon or LeBlanc?" Katarina pushed her glass away, taking a long swig from the bottle. She returned it to the table with a slam as Swain leaned in towards her, supporting himself on his elbows.

"Think about it, Sinister Blade," he answered. Katarina groaned- Swain always did this. He would tease with information, then expect her to pass some sort of intellectual test. He did, however, do everything for a reason. Katarina turned the whole situation over in her head.

"You asked me because neither Talon nor LeBlanc could be trusted," Katarina answered slowly, Swain's expression remaining unchanged.

"You're half right. When we pulled you from that bar, we also took and interrogated members of the crowd and guard that saw what happened. We asked them the standard questions, Demacians this, Demacians that, and what happened," Swain lifted the glass to his lips, pulling the cloth covering his mouth away, revealing a ragged scar on his lip. "Most couldn't really give us an answer, as they turned to flee once knives started flying haphazardly into the crowd." His face was emotionless, regarding Katarina and his words with stoic efficiency. "But, the bar's dancer saw the entire thing as she was facing the window. What she saw was a ten second duel between you and a short Ionian woman- the Ionian seemed to have started it." Katarina nodded at him, her memory of the actual event a blur of color and noise. Swain set his glass down and went on. "We paid her for her information and to keep her mouth shut and released her. Your father asked me to do some research on this Ionian, as he was rather worried that someone would attack you, of all people, in broad daylight in the middle of the Ivory Ward, then leave, taking nothing," Swain finished. Katarina pulled the bottle to her lips again.

"What did you find?" The redhead asked, her interest piqued. Swain straightened up against the tall back of his chair.

"That's the interesting part. Nothing. If she hadn't shown her face in the League, we would still have no idea what she was," Swain said, setting his cane on his lap. "I exhausted every resource under my command and came up with nothing, not even dead leads. She simply didn't exist."

"I'm assuming you have her all figured out now," Katarina said, smiling. Swain had something in mind or he would have dismissed her.

"Don't be foolish. But we now know exactly where to look," he almost droned.

"We?" Katarina raised her eyebrow.

"Yes, we. Nothing came up before because I was searching for an Ionian, not some sort of abomination." He pointed to her. "Your services will be needed in the future- your conventional services." Katarina's face split into a grin.

"You have some sort of answer to her body snatching whens he dies?"

"Weapons exist to trap souls inside them when they taste blood, though they are rare and most are under the watch of the League," Swain said, Katarina was starting to understand, but a question stood out in her mind.

"Wait a second, why do we need to kill her in the first place? She clearly doesn't care about us or the Demacians in the slightest," Katarina interrupted. Swain looked at her. The assassin knew that look- she received when she was wrong about something.

"I never said kill her. I said your services will be needed. There will be blood, if it's hers remains to be seen. Now, if you please, I have letters to write." Swain stood shakily from his chair, leaning on his cane he began to hobble towards a thick mahogany desk. "You may take the wine if you wish. Consider it a thank-you for working outside your area of expertise."

Katarina stood, snatching the bottle up and striding to the door without so much as a salute.

–

Celene and Lux watched the Exile, amused. Riven was standing in front of an armorer's stall, trying to haggle a price for a sheath with a very muscular man. Riven's familiar sigh drifted through the gathering crowd as she slammed her sword on to the man's anvil with a clatter. The blacksmith's eyes seemed to widen. The man went totally silent and leaned in, examining the sword in front of him. He gestured and Riven eyed him nervously before removing her hand from the handle. The man ran his fingers over the blade, nodding before lifting it with some effort.

"She's going to be there for a while," Celene said, her eyes turning to the Demacian. Lux nodded, her smile wide as ever. Celene adjusted the pile of clothing draped over her left arm.

"Did you want to do anything else today?" Lux asked, watching the Exile throw her arms over her head in frustration. Celene shook her head silently, watching Riven remove her stone weapon effortlessly from the stall and stomp towards them.

"He wanted three gold to hand-craft a sheath," Riven said coolly as she reached the pair.

"That's actually not that bad," Lux said, tilting her head at the white-haired woman. Riven glared at her. Lux visibly shied away from the yellow gaze. Celene wasn't listening, her blue eyes turned upwards towards the sky, away from the pair of women. A single crow was circling them, its beady eyes locked on the Ionian. Celene diverted her gaze towards the institute with a sigh. She was half dreading what was to come when she returned. Earth had no reason to forgive her for anything, and Riven had no obligation to subject herself to Celene's possession. Celene felt the guilt rising in her throat. A hand rested it self on her shoulder. Like a bird landing on an out stretched arm. The Ionian turned, the linin wrapped left hand belonged to Riven.

"That is enough of that," the Exile said softly. Her eyes were hard and merciless, but the woman's face betrayed her sympathy. Celene sighed softly, the ends of her thin lips turning upward. She looked at the crow circling above her again.

"Want to get this over with, Riven?" Celene asked softly and Riven's grip tightened slightly.

"Don't say it like that, it's disrespectful," she answered, lifted her hand. "Huughh, let us proceed," Riven said, striding past the kimono-clad Ionian. Celene followed the Exile as quickly as her dress would allow. She was beginning to dislike the garment, noticing how it forced her to walk pigeon-toed. Riven was already halfway up the League's massive steps by the time Celene reached the first. The Exile paused, looking behind her down at the girl. Celene could barely make out a small smirk on the woman's lips. Riven halted as she reached the top, sitting on the stair, her yellow eyes tracking the Ionian.

"I don't know if I can follow you back to your room," Celene heard the Demacian say from behind her. A gloved hand pointed to the massive armoured form standing inside the Institute's pillared archway. The figure stood dramatically beneath the waving Demacian flag. Celene was sure Garen did things like this intentionally- there was no other explanation.

"It was fun while it lasted," Celene said, trying to hide a smirk. The Ionian looked over her shoulder at Lux and nodded a goodbye. Lux heard Celene inhale sharply through her nose before she vanished in a blue flash. Gasps of surprise came from around the fountain-centered square as Lux was left alone. The Ionian reappeared cross-legged, seated next to Riven. Riven felt her hand close around the stone sword on her lap, her yellow eyes turning to investigate the flash.

"Hunghh. Don't do that," she sighed. Celene frowned at her.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Her voice was heavy with guilt. Riven's amber eyes locked onto her blue ones.

"Are you?" Riven questioned, her gaze unwavering. Celene looked away from her.

"I feel it needs to be done, regardless. I need to understand," she admitted. Riven's expression remained unchanged. Celene felt herself being hauled to her feet by the woman. Celene found herself being dragged into the entrance hall. Riven released her at the foot of the stairs. Celene stood for a moment, pondering how to climb them in her new kimono. After a moment of thought, she settled on "carefully" and placed her saddled foot on the first stair. Riven respectfully matched her pace as she climbed.

After several moments of walking in silence, Celene reached the neutral champion hall. The Exile parted the heavy doors with her off hand and strode inside. Celene followed her, Riven walking quickly with what the Ionian guessed was purpose. She marched behind her as quickly as her kimono would allow. Riven seemed to have a near-tangible aura around her that Celene hadn't noticed before. She felt her lips turn up in mild amusement as a heavy-built man in a torn cloak pressed himself against his door and out of the woman's way.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, his voice like gravel. Riven didn't look at him as she reached her door, beginning to fiddle with her lock. Celene turned her eyes to the man just now leaving his door frame.

"Celene," she said, extending her small hand from inside the kimono's long sleeve. The man looked her up and down before straightening himself and taking it.

"Graves," he said with a nod, turning away from her and striding away towards the dining hall. Celene watched him leave before turning her head to Riven. The Exile had finally managed to open her backwards-plaqued door. Celene turned, slipping inside. As Riven slammed the door behind her, Celene heard numerous deadbolts click into place.

The room was dimly lit, the sun barely reaching past the wood nailed in place over the single window. The floor was white tile that seemed spotless. Celene looked around the room- it was utterly clean in all meanings of the word. What little clothing Riven owned was folded very neatly on shelves, everything seemed to shine as if scrubbed, the bed was made and wrinkle-less. Riven slid down her door into a sitting position behind Celene, the nerves showing themselves on the woman's face.

_This is her sanctuary, she doesn't need to hide anything here,_ Celene mused. Riven seemed to be thinking hard, her face stiff as if turning thoughts over. Celene carefully knelt down in front of the Exile, resting on her knees. Riven looked up at her, her face now flat and still like a lake.

"No turning back," Riven said, more to herself then to Celene. The Exile bit her lip.

"I won't kiss you," Celene said, her tone bordering on teasing. Riven turned her amber eyes away. "But it is somewhat... Intimate," Celene admitted to the Exile. Her chest was beginning to feel hot.

"Promise me something," Riven said, so quietly Celene had to lean in to hear her. The fire burning in her chest seemed to snuff out the remaining guilt.

"Anything," Celene said, frowning at the white-haired woman.

"Please don't sift through my memories- I have things I wish to keep locked away," Riven almost choked out, the mention of them loosing their bindings. Celene put her hands on Riven's, leaning her forehead against the Noxians. Riven pressed herself into her door as if the touch burned. Her eyes squeezing themselves shut. Celene frowned at the reaction. She could feel her chest throbbing behind her kimono.

"I'm going to say I'm sorry now," Celene said, her heart speeding as skin touched skin. She scolded herself internally for enjoying the touch Riven seemed to hate. Riven didn't respond, but she tensed as the blue strands wrapped around her hands. They stilled their advance. Celene sighed.

"Riven, can you open your mouth?" The words felt strange rolling off the Ionian's tongue. Riven opened one eye nervously. Celene's proximity was making her mind feel hazy. She blinked to clear it.

"Huughh, you have no need to say that to me," Riven said softly. Exhaling coolly, she held her mouth ajar. Celene nodded, leaning in so her forehead touched the Exile's again. Riven didn't flinch at the touch like before. The heat in Celene's chest was becoming unbearable, her breathing quickening noticeably in both dread and excitement at the events to come. Celene drew a deep breath, exhaling it in a long sigh. The heat in her chest stubbornly remained. The Ionian blinked, drawing another and trying again. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears.

"That's how its going to be, is it?" She whispered to the demon in her heart. "Forgive me," the Ionian said to Riven, a tiny, bemused smile splitting her lips as she tipped her face forward. She could see Riven beginning to blush- the Exile knew what was coming. She was pushed away, and Celene could feel her hands crush her fingers.

"If you do that, I'll stab you," Riven warned, the tone coming across as nervous rather than threatening, like she had intended. Celene snickered to herself, inhaling for one last try. The Ionian sighed, deeper this time. The demon in her chest left her body with the breath, screaming. Hundreds of blue tendrils exploded from Celene's back and mouth, filling Riven's room with a sky blue light. The Exile stood her ground. The tendrils met the woman's open lips. Riven coughed at the amount of force being used, but remained still, accepting what was about to happen.

_Fascinating, _Celene mused to herself. _Shying from a simple kiss, but stubborn as a mountain in the face of something like- _The thought was cut short as the blackness of her bodiless transition took over. Riven gagged, struggling now, pushing at the Ionian with her feet. Celene went limp, falling forward into Riven's lap. Riven felt something alien tug at the back of her mind. It felt like a slick liquid filled her head. A dizzy spell struck, her room seeming to tilt on its side, the tile floor slamming into her right eye. The alien presence crept forward until it reached her finger tips. As her body curled on its own, Riven could feel control leaving her. Her eyes blinked on their own. She knew Celene was being as gentle as she could, she had yet to feel the wave of convulsions that struck both Lux and Katarina. The alienness seemed to disappear as it if had leaked from her fingers onto the floor. Riven felt completely normal. Her eyes again blinked by themselves. The tuned muscles in her arms acted, pushing her body upright. The feeling was very strange.

"I won't betray your trust, friend," Riven's lips moved, the voice itself seeming somewhat distant. It was unplanned by her brain. As the words left her mouth, the result felt muted like it belonged to somebody else. Riven instinctively ordered herself to bite her lip. The order was ignored as her body turned to limp Ionian onto her back. She was ridgid as a board, staring wide eyed at Riven's wooden ceiling.

"You know why I did this- I want you to be happy too," "Riven" said to Earth's stiff form. The Ionian remained motionless. Riven felt her body frown. The frown was different than the one she ordered, her shoulders slackened with the motion.

"Try to blink," Riven's lips said again to the Ionian. The kimono-clad woman's eyes slowly closed, then opened again. The action was repeated, more quickly this time. She shot bolt upright, her short hair flying into her face. The Ionian curled and uncurled her thin fingers in front of her face, her lips splitting into a smile of pure joy. The girl pushed herself to her feet, feeling her face with her hands, shouting something joyfully in Ionian, beginning to laugh. Riven couldn't understand what the girl was saying as the Ionian turned to the Exile and began to joyfully scream to her in the unfamiliar language. Riven's tongue curled into a shape it had never made before, Ionian leaving the Exile's lips. Riven's head bowed itself on its own and the girl seemed to still, her expression turning more inquisitive. Riven was able to lift a word as it left her lips.

_Forgive. _She had heard it before from the Ionian battlecry during her time on the island. Celene's body glanced away from her, a sigh escaping her lips. The word was caught by the Exile again as it left Celene's lips. All at once, Riven leaned in and pulled the Ionian woman into a bone crushing hug. The Exile could feel her back pop under her arms, Celene didn't know her new strength. Her grip loosening, the Ionian's feet met the floor again as she escaped the embrace.

"I want peace. This woman," "Riven" gestured to her chest, "let me use her as a vessel to make peace. I'm tired of hurting you, I'm tired of lying to myself, I'm tired of being the way I am," "Riven" went on, the speech understandable. "For everything I have done, I can't say I'm sorry enough to express the pain that comes with the memories, but I refuse to hide them away. My situation is untenable; as you must know by now, it cannot be resolved." The Ionian stood motionless, her now brown eyes looked into Riven's now bright blue ones. She sighed, leaning forward into a deep bow. Riven felt her body tense at the sight.

"Why do you push away what your are? Balance and enlightenment can only come from acceptance," Earth said, her head tilted questioningly.

Riven's teeth closed around the inside of her lip. "Because it hurts people," she admitted. The conversation was becoming very painful.

Earth nodded, the corners of her lips curving softly upward. "It doesn't hurt me," the Ionian muttered with an honest smile. Celene felt as her heart would claw its way up her throat and onto her lap. She blinked in noncomprehension, positive she had misheard.

"When I was a child, my father told me that everyone has their burdens to bear, mine, it seems..." She paused, looking away from the Exile towards her feet before re-centering her brown eyes on Celene.

"Mine is you. For the sake of everyone, I shall bear your curse." The words left her lips shakily. "Riven" felt her eyes becoming heavy.

_Am I crying? _The thought shot though the Exile's head. She ordered her eyes to snap shut and stem the tide of tears that ran down her cheeks.

"On one condition," Earth said, her arms crossing at her chest. Riven involuntarily wiped her eyes with the worn gauntlet on her right hand. She looked up at the Ionian. "You will never fade- with that power, you must make sure the world knows no suffering," the Ionian finished. Riven's body sniffled, wiping her eyes clean again.

"Why do you forgive me?" She asked. Riven had never heard a more depressed tone leave her lips.

"Because you cannot help it. When I was a child, I was bitten by a snake. It left me bedridden for days while the venom burned my flesh. My father was able to cure me. I do not hate the snake- he could not help but bite. I do not forgive you because your act requires no such thing, the debts you owe morally have been paid by your heart. You have regret, and therefore are redeemed." The Ionian took a step and hugged "Riven".

"Huggh." "Riven" wrapped her arms around the Ionian's thin shoulders.

"Please return this woman's body," Earth said softly. "Riven" nodded slowly. The Exile could feel her chest becoming hot. The Ionian ducked from under Riven's arms.

"Thank you for teaching me your language. I will not lie and say I haven't experienced enjoyment in your company, Daemon Caeli," Earth said calmly she knelt down and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

"Riven, this will hurt a little," "Riven" said to herself, kneeling down to Earth. Her heart rate was intensifying with her breathing as Riven's forehead pressed itself against the Ionian's. A sigh left her lips, her back exploding in pain as hundreds of strands burst from it. A cry left the Exile's lips as she arched forward against the Ionian. Earth lifted her hands, her fingers interlacing with the Exile's. The difference in skin texture was very obvious as the Ionian's smooth, thin-fingered hands met Riven's strong, calloused ones.

"You ready?" "Riven" asked. The Ionian closed her eyes and nodded. She opened her mouth. Riven's vision went black as her eyes slid shut against her orders. The Ionian choked. Muffled coughing could be heard, the small hands tightening their grip against Riven's palms. Her body slumped forward. A wave of drowsiness washed over her. She drew a breath. A smile split the Exiles lips when the instinctive order was obeyed by her body without question. She opened her eyes. Bright orbs of glowing blue met hers.

"Are you alright, Riven?" Celene asked, looking rather worried. Riven nodded, pulling her fingers from Celene's.

"She is at peace?" Riven already knew the answer. Celene knew she did. The Ionian nodded. Riven exhaled through her nose, pulling herself to her feet. "Then yes, I am fine, but I do have a question."

"Anything," Celene said, the guilt clear on her face. Riven frowned at her. Deciding to ignore it, she opened her mouth to speak again. The name the Ionian had used stuck out in the Exile's mind like a painting on a blank wall.

"Daemoon Caoly?" Riven repeated back to Celene from memory, her Noxian tongue butchering the pronouncation. Celene smirked at her- the expression was getting very familiar.

"Daemon Caeli," Celene repeated with less blood. "It translates roughly to Demon of the Sky.

It's a very old Ionian name." Celene got to her feet, panning her head around Riven's space.

"Because of the eyes?" Riven asked inquisitively. Ionian culture was still rather strange to her; all of their names and comparisons seemed to be after nature rather then achievements and history, which was the case with Noxians. Celene nodded, her smirk shrinking to a small musing smile.

"As blue as the cloudless sky," Celene said softly. "Thank you for your help." Riven felt herself smile, her heart feeling light, a sign of progress.

–

The crow tilted its feathery head, pulling its eyes from the gape between board and window frame. The two women inside were leaving. The crow lifted its wing, scratching the feathers on its underside with its beak. With a final peek inside the room, it hopped from the sill and took flight. The crow beat its long wings once, lifting it self over the hall. Its destination now inside, the crow glided silently downward, swooping through the open window.

Swain lifted his eyes from the paper in front of him at the familiar swish of feathery wings entering his room. The crow flapped once, coming to rest with a few hops on his desk. The Grand General felt himself smile under the cloth covering his mouth.

"Good girl." His old hand left the feather quill. Swain ran his fingertips down the bird's side. The crow looked at him, tilting its head. "Tell me everything," he ordered respectfully. The bird lowered its head. Swain turned his, leaning it. The crow brushed the side of its feathery head against Swain's ear. The two pulled away. Swain turned the new information over in his head, stroking his chin with his wrinkled hand. It was time to pay the summoners a visit. The Grand General motioned the crow to his shoulder. He held the text-covered sheet of parchment to the crow's eyes before setting it on his desk again and began to fold it into thirds.

"Beatrice, if you would be so kind as to fly this to Noxus and take it to General Darius," Swain said calmly, his wrinkled fingers sliding the letter into a thick envelope. The crow cawed loudly, tucking its head underneath its right wing and nipping at the feathers with its beak. Swain tilted the red candle, dripping wax into the envelope before slamming it neatly with a small stamp. A red seal with a crow's wing greeted his eyes as he raised the envelope to Beatrice. A taloned foot took hold of the letter, and with a flap, Beatrice swooped from Swain's room. The Grand General followed the bird with his red eyes, his mind a garden of growing ideas, all fighting with each other to be in the sunlight. Swain watched them wrestle with each other before deciding to get the next order of business out of the way. He focused briefly, calling the summoner's link to mind.

_"Grand General Swain." _A hurried voice tugged at Swain's attention, the tone stressed but respectful.

"I wish to serve as the middle lane champion for Bilgewater in their match against Ionia,"Swain stated blankly, drumming his fingers on his desk.

_"Y-yes sir, Grand General. Forever strong."_ Swain severed the link. He never bothered to remember the fool's name. The Grand General allowed his attention to slip away, watching the ideas fight to the death in his mind. Swain could feel the gears of war beginning to turn, ideas shoved to the side as his mind began to work, breaking down details and verbals on the events to come. The process began to slow- the General had lost track of the elapsed time as his thoughts ground to a halt. He needed more information. It was the fuel of his ambition. Without it, the mental machines that broke down the world would lay still and silent. _Patience, _he thought to himself, the word he leaned on like his cane. What he needed was right around the corner.

–

Celene panned her eyes around the dining hall. After a moment of searching, she found what she was looking for. A pair of horns, towering above everyone and everything in the room. She locked her eyes on the horns, advancing in strides. Alistar melted into view, the table in front of him covered in all types of food. His purple-clad partner was missing. In her place sat a woman with a feathery cape. Judging from the bull's face, the conversation looked rather serious.

Celene reached the table's end, leaning forward slight. She strained her ears, trying to snag any escaping word, but none could be reached through the wall of chatter between Celene and her target. Alistar spotted her. Celene caught a small smile on his bovine lips.

"Celene!" He exclaimed, waving to her. Vayne whirled around, her red bespectacled gaze striking Celene's blue glowing one. Celene could practically smell the venom on the woman like perfume. She felt her lips split. The scent proved overpowering. The monster advanced.

"We were just talking about you," Alistar boomed, motioning her to sit beside him. Celene scanned the table. Deciding she didn't want to walk, she inhaled appearing beside the bull in a blue flash. Vayne jumped back in her seat at the sudden move. Celene felt her eyebrows climb slightly higher on her forehead, her smirk presenting itself to the woman. Vayne narrowed her eyes, wrinkling her nose and leaning in.

"Yes, Alistar was just telling me how you dispatched the purple team in your practice match," Vayne said, her tone like ice. Alistar instantly picked up on the woman's distaste for Celene and leaned in. Celene kept her eyes locked on Vayne. The two stared at each other for a long while. Vayne was daring her to move. Celene decided to see how hot the water was- she dipped her toe in.

"Yes, Katarina proved very useful in that battle," Celene said, her tone level. Vayne didn't blink.

"I was right about you, monster. The League is a fitting place, if I were you, I'd hope it stays." Vayne said, her voice cold enough to freeze water. Celene felt her chest start to get hot, her smile spreading. The Ionian leaned in.

"You think it would matter?" Celene returned the challenge. "I've killed a thousand of you, been killed by a thousand." She paused. Alistar was on full alert now, ready to grab both women should one lunge at the other.

"I'd be happy to make that a thousand and one," Vayne said threateningly, her tone on par with Katarina's most dangerous. The whole hall seemed strangely silent. Celene felt her smile touch her ears.

"I don't see your _beef _with me, Vayne," Celene said, sneaking a glance at Alistar, there was a pause. A small smile split the bull's lips.

"I don't know, it seems like you two are having an awfully _meaty _conversation here," Alistar said as he visibly relaxed, shrugging and closing his eyes.

"Well then, let's keep this conversation _moo_ving then," Celene said, leaning back in her chair.

"Don't _milk _it, Celene," said Alistar, unable to control his growing smirk

"You can't milk those," Celene said, her voice cracking in humor.

"ENOUGH!" Vayne shouted, pushing herself to her feet, her chair toppling with a loud clatter. The attention of the hall snapped towards the sound, silence following. Celene and Alistar glanced at each other, then at Vayne.

"Come now Vayne, don't have a _cow_." Celene finally broke the silence. Alistar burst into a deep booming laugh. Celene snorted before finally surrendering to the laughter herself. Vayne stood motionless, her hands balled into fists. The Nighthunter's attention was torn from the monster by a scraping sound to her right. Summoner Beyal righted her toppled chair and sat himself in the chair next to the standing woman. He snuck a glance at her, receiving a poisonous, red-tinted glare in return.

"I thought you were going to summon me," Celene said, turning her attention to Beyal. He pulled his hood back. Celene noted the bags under his eyes.

"I was, but I got a bit bogged down," Beyal replied, rubbing his eyes.

"By?" Celene tilted her head and asked, forgetting Vayne's existence.

"Well, long story short, the Ionians are upset that one of their ships was attacked and looted," Beyal began. "On board was some kind of sacred thing I didn't bother to care about. It was sold in Bilgewater for a lot of money." Beyal sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "The guy that sold it bought a house or something, and because of the exchange of wealth, Bilgewater is claiming ownership of this sacred thingy. Now Ionia is super mad that they can't retrieve it," he finished with a sigh.

"Sounds kind of like Ionia's right," Celene stated blankly. Alistar nodded.

"Of course they are, it's bullshit, but politics isn't about who's right." Beyal threw his hands up in frustration. Vayne returned herself to her seat, now listening with interest.

"So, then, why come here to tell me?" Celene asked, reaching towards Alistar's stash of food only to have her hand lightly slapped away before it reached its target.

"Because, politics," Beyal stated bluntly, turning his head towards the entrance to the dining hall. Celene tracked his gaze, her blue eyes falling on a tall Ionian woman with long straight black hair and vivid eyes. She wore decorative red and white Ionian battle armour. A four-pronged blade hovered unaided, nearly five feet in the air beside her. Behind her head floated a gleaming silver object, framing her head in a silver glare. A Mantle of Decorum- Celene remembered the name from old Ionian military books she had read before traveling to the mainland.

Celene whistled to herself as the woman eyed the table. She began to approach, intently watching as everyone within twenty feet of the woman took several steps backward away from her. Her armour didn't give of the echoing thunks that Demacian and Noxian armour seemed to. Celene turned her eyes from the woman, towards Beyal.

"I'm assuming she wants me to get involved?" Celene asked teasingly, knowing the answer was yes. The woman reached their table, her green eyes locking on Celene, who slumped in her chair lazily with a smile.

"Been a while since I've seen a Mantle of Decorum," Celene said to the woman as she reached her table. The woman ignored the statement.

"I am Irelia, Will of the Blades, representing Ionia in the League of Legends," she spoke, her voice flooded with authority. Celene crossed her legs. She turned the woman's introduction over in her head. She pushed her analysis to the back of her mind for later.

"I'm Celene, what can I do for you, Irelia?" Celene replied. She flicked her eyes to Alistar. The bull had gone back to his food, either out of lack of interest or nerves. Celene noticed most of the hall was watching her and Irelia. Celene gestured to the chair next to hers casually- she disliked formalities.

"I will stand, thank you. I came to ask you if you would like to represent Ionia in our match against Bilgewater in two days." Irelia answered, the blade hovering next to her orbiting her slowly. Celene watched it, interested.

"I'm assuming you've done your research, considering you're asking me to represent something," Celene said, playing with her brooch idly. The woman's eyes narrowed. She didn't seem to be keen on nosiness.

"I witnessed your practice match, as I do with all new champions. I ask again, would you like to represent Ionia on the Fields of Justice?" Celene shrugged.

"Sure. I have one question though," Celene inhaled. "This sacred object, what is it?" Celene asked. Irelia glared at Beyal. Celene smirked at his laziness.

"It is the Binding Blade of Lito." Celene tilted her head, glad she had decided to answer yes. The idea of a binding weapon on the market didn't sit well with her. She smiled to herself. She was beginning to really enjoy this place.

"I figure this would be of particular concern to you, should Bilgewater win and keep the weapon," Irelia went on, as if she had read Celene's mind. Celene shrugged.

"You do indeed do your research. As for the weapon, being sealed away is more of annoyance to me then people seem to think, though it does rid the world of me for several generations, I would still call it just an annoyance," Celene said, the statement aimed more at the eavesdropping Vayne across from her than towards Irelia herself.

"It's settled then, I will see you on the Fields." Irelia spun on her heel, her hovering sword parting the air in front of her as she left. Celene looked sideways at Beyal.

"I could never do your job," the monster said flatly. Beyal sighed and looked at her. "Still going to summon me today?" Celene asked him, eyeing Vayne as she begins to leave.

"Fuck that. I need to summon you for that match, I'll do it then." Beyal slumped forward, watching Alistar wolf pounds of food at a time with tired interest.

"Well, if you don't mind then, I'm going to excuse myself," Celene said, raising to her feet. Beyal and Alistar both nodded at her as she turned to leave. Celene strode quickly from the hall, spying Irelia talking with several summoners at the bottom of the stairs as she thrust her shoulder into the neutral champion door.

She reached her room, pausing at her door. Something caught her eye- the plaque on the door next to hers was facing the proper way out, "Riven, the Exile" displayed across its silver surface with a gleam. Celene smiled. She pushed her door open. No light streamed in from her window. Only the cool night air that leaked in greeted her. The monster raised her arms over her head and stretched, turning on her heel and kicking her door shut with a snap. She allowed her balance to fail, her back hitting her bedspread. She felt abnormally content- today had been very eventfully. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the remaining heat in her chest from earlier loose in strands of blue. Celene hadn't realized how tired she actually was as sleep's cold hands gripped her attention and pulled towards the black abyss. She sighed again, turning to the black with a smile and diving in.

**Author's Notes: COW JOKES! The plot finally begins to slide forward. EDIT: Sorry about not being able to match my regular schedule. seems to be having uploading issues and since i have no clue when this will actually becoming view-able Im going to say Im sorry anyways. hopefully this wasnt as annoying for you guys as it was for me. i was pulling my hair out for at least half an hour.**


	6. Not So Tortured

Chapter 6

Not So Tortured

_Thump. Thump. T__hump__._ Celene's eyes lazily drifted open. She groaned loudly, pressing her face into her pillow.

"Celene, it's Marten," came a muffled voice from outside her door. The monster ignored it, pretending to be asleep.

"_Celene, wake up, sleepyhead." _The voice cracked like a bolt of lightning through her half-asleep brain.

"_Why do you need __to talk to me? What time is it?"_ Celene answered mentally, forcing herself upright with a groan.

"_It's eleven in the morning, Sunday. Your match against Bilgewater will take place in less than four hours. May I come in__?"_ The mental statement snapped Celene awake, the drowsiness retreating from her. She hopped to her bare feet, closing the distance from her door in several shaky, yet quick, steps. Her fingers snapped the deadbolt out of place and pulled the wooden door ajar. Marten stood leaning on the inside of her door frame, inspecting his fingernails.

"Now, what did you get yourself into, young lady? Eleven is hardly a normal time to wake up," he said, his eyes on his fingers. The smallest hint of a smirk could be seen on the man's old lips. Celene put her hands on her hips.

"We're in the League of Legends; can the word _normal_ even be applied here?" Celene said, her throat feeling dry. Marten shrugged, not answering the question. "Can we go eat?" Celene asked, not wanting to engage in verbal combat moments after waking up.

"We may," he said, taking the request as a surrender. He pushed himself upright. Signaling Celene to follow, he strode off down the hall. Celene followed, noting she wasn't wearing her sandals. The monster didn't care- the stone floors of the League kept the drowsiness at bay.

"So, who's involved in this match?" Celene asked, adjusting her pace to match Marten's. The elderly robed man snuck a short glance past his hood.

"Well, the summoners you've already met," Marten said, pushing the neutral hall's door ajar with a small grunt. Celene raised a thin eyebrow at him, turning through the door behind the summoner. Her thoughts were interrupted as her cheek met something cold and hard, the force of impact causing her to stumble backwards away from the cold, immovable object.

Celene squeaked in pain, her hand flying upward to cover her nose. The monster opened one eye, investigating what she had just run into. Over the sound of Marten's labored laughter, Celene made out the familiar red and white of Ionian battle armour. Irelia turned, her green eyes casting downwards onto the small woman that had just interrupted her conversation.

"May I help you?" Irelia said loudly, her voice teeming with a vivid annoyance. Celene forced the part of herself that wanted to challenge the woman into the back of her mind, leaving logic at the helm.

"I'm sorry I didn't see you," Celene said honestly, not intimidated by the woman's aura of authority. Celene held eye contact for a moment before looking away and ducking under the levitating sword to the woman's right. Marten followed the monster, snickering to himself as the pair passed into the dining hall. Irelia narrowed her eyes at the back of the monster's head as she left her sight before turning back to Shen.

"What do you think of her Shen, should we be concerned?" She asked, her voice lowering to just above a whisper. Shen placed his hand on his chin, pondering the question for a moment.

"Not in the slightest," the ninja replied.

–

The dining hall was a buzz of activity. Champions and summoners from all factions were gathered at the tables disguising the day's events to come. Celene followed Marten through the crowd, using his authority to part it like the prow of a ship. She couldn't clearly see where she was headed, but they soon arrived. One of the hall's larger rectangular tables sat packed with faces. Celene recognized them all. On the left side sat Summoners Wiles, Werhan, and Jura, along with Caitlyn and Alistar, and beyond a division of two seats from the others, Riven. The table's right side housed Summoner Beyal whom was engaged in active conversation with his robed comrades, Summoner Kathrine, Lux, her brother Garen, and Vayne, who was glaring needles at Celene.

"What a party! See why I came and woke you up?" Marten teased, waving at the table.

"Indeed, today promises to be exciting, does it not?" The feminine voice drifted from behind their pair. Irelia made her way with ease from the crowd of summoners in line for food. She was flanked by Akali and Shen, both of who looked equipped to fight a war. Akali sported the green cotton tunic from Celene's first meeting with her. Numerous pouches of what the monster assumed were smoke bombs and a pair of freshly sharpened gleaming kamas hung from the ninja's sash. Shen's armour was heavier. He wore only a pair of thin Ionian swords across his back, lacking the equipment Akali wore with pride.

The table seemed to dip slightly in volume as Irelia and the two ninja drew up seats. Celene and Marten followed. The monster placed herself next to Akali, directly across from Riven. The Exile sat casually, her legs crossed on her chair rather than sitting firmly on the floor. She scanned the new arrivals over the carrot being split by her teeth. Her amber eyes paused on Irelia. Celene saw her bite her lip. The Exile hid the tic coolly behind the food as Irelia met her eyes with a glare. The stare was a challenge- the Ionian's jungle green eyes attempted to burn the Exile's skin. Riven looked at her impassively, her amber eyes easily upstaging the Ionian's intensity. The monster whistled in approval of Riven's easy victory, earning a tired glance from the Exile and a disguised glare from Irelia.

Akali broke the moment of silence, noticing the hostilities. "Have you been briefed?" She asked softly, pulling her face mask downward. Food arrived at the table. This was the first time Celene had been served since her induction into the League- perhaps the size of the group had to do with it, the monster thought. She casually pushed plate of Ionian pastries towards the Exile and turned her eyes to Akali.

"I'm being piloted, aren't I? Do I really need briefing?" Celene asked, lazily propping her head up on her hand. Lux gave her an odd look as the monster's elbow made contact with the table top. Akali tilted her head questioningly at Celene. Wiles spoke up from across the table.

"Actually, we're having complications with the piloting thing," the skinny Piltover man said loudly, gesturing with his hand towards Beyal who seemed to shrink. Everyone's attention turned to him.

"Some champions have complications that make piloting very tricky, even dangerous." He inhaled. "It seems you're in that boat, because you have two presences in one body, or whatever."

Celene looked at him. "Marten seemed to have no trouble doing it." Marten smirked to himself pridefully. Everyone seemed to sneak a glance at him.

"Well, Marten is sexy," Werhan said with a snicker. Beyal and Wiles looked at him, grinning and nodding in agreement

"So what's your point?" Celene asked with a smirk, thoroughly amused by the conversation.

"Wiles' point is that I will not be fully piloting you, I'll be urging you towards the action that the team and situation need of you," Beyal said, sinking his teeth into a pear. Celene couldn't say with a straight face that this bothered her.

"How often does this happen?" The monster asked. Beyal swallowed.

"Not very, but some champions are very impractical to directly pilot without practice. Ahri is a good example, Nocturne too, maybe," Beyal said, sounding almost bored. Celene tilted her head.

"I don't know either of them," Celene said flatly, deciding which of the twenty apples in front of her she wanted to eat.

"Well, Ahri is over there in line, and Nocturne doesn't eat," Werhan said, pointing towards the now shortening line of in front of the Ionian vendor. Celene traced his finger to the only figure in the line not wearing summoner's robes. Celene was instantly intrigued. The woman had numerous white fluffy tails coming from under what looked like an overly trimmed version of the kimono Celene had bought. Her hair was jet black with a pair of pointed furry ears topping her head. One ear twitched at Werhan's mention of her name.

"So then, who else is on the Ionian team?" Celene asked, wrapping her fingers around the second apple from the top. Beyal thought for a moment, pulling the draft from his memory.

"Well, I'll be guiding you middle lane, Celene. I think the rest is Akali top lane, Shen and Ashe bottom lane, Irelia jungle," Beyal finished, counting on his fingers. Celene sank her teeth into the apple, processing the new information.

"You summoners make a lot of use of neutral and ally champions rather than actual Ionian ones," Irelia pointed out, remembering that Ionia had its own hallway. Beyal glanced at her.

"That's because it's difficult to make a competitive team composition with a limited number of champions- you should see the Bilgewater team, it's a better example of this than ours," Beyal stated flatly. He sounded tired Celene noted.

"It's because of how the metagame works. Some champions don't work in some lanes versus other champions, some can't jungle, blah blah blah," Wiles added in, twirling his hand to add effect. Irelia and Celene gave the group confused looks as the summoners lost them. Vayne leaned in and whispered something to Garen, her eyes never once leaving Celene. The monster looked her over. The crossbow fixed to her wrist was loaded, the silver bolt gleaming in the torchlight.

"What's interesting is," Werhan began, swallowing the food in his mouth before finishing, "a lot of champion picks on the other team are by request." He took another bite; Celene couldn't see what the man was eating.

Celene raised an eyebrow, balancing her apple core on her finger. "Like whom?" She asked. Everyone but Vayne was looking at the blond man now.

"Hmm, well, at the top of the list would be Grand General Swain," Werhan said flatly. "Another interesting one is Nocturne requested to fight for Bilgewater. And Vayne." Celene met eyes with the Nighthunter.

"That desperate to shoot me? I'm flattered," Celene teased. The woman fiddled with the crossbow on her wrist, drumming her gloved fingers on the handle that fired the weapon. Celene winked flirtatiously at her, doing her best to make the woman uncomfortable. Snickering rose from the summoners and Alistar. Vayne bit her lip, her left eye twitching. She huffed, pulling the rack of bolts from the weapon with a metallic click. _Countermeasures,_ Celene thought with a smile, knowing she was playing with fire.

"You should not torment others, Celene," Garen spoke, placing his fork on his plate. "They may not help you in the future." Celene looked at the man sideways; he was throwing water onto her burning bridge. The monster couldn't help but sigh.

"It changes nothing, Garen," Vayne said coldly, her eyes locked on Celene's. A tapping sound rose from the inside the crowd. Celene pulled her eyes from the Nighthunter's as the crowd of robed figures parted. A woman with long red hair emerged, her hands resting on her weapons as she almost shooed summoners away. A man in Noxian battle mage robes hobbled behind her on a wooden cane. His mouth was hidden behind a gray cloth. His red eyes scanned the table. Garen and Lux's hands both flew to their weapons. Irelia visibly tensed, her hovering weapon becoming rigid and alert. Riven glared poison at the man, pulling her sword closer to her. Celene locked her eyes on him in recognition, attracting the man's questioning gaze. An awkward pause followed as the entire hall literally went silent- everyone was watching.

"Good day," the man said formally. He placed his cane in front of himself and bowed. "May we sit?"

Celene had never heard the sound of hundreds of collectively surprised people before. The air in the dining hall seemed to buzz. There was a pause. Shen and Irelia looked at each other; Garen and Lux did the same. Even Katarina had her mouth slightly ajar at the words.

"You may, General Swain," Irelia spoke slowly, realizing any attempt at hostilities by or against the man would be foolish. Garen opened his mouth to protest. Summoner Jura elbowed him hard. Swain hobbled towards the far end of the table. The man planted himself on Celene's side, leaving a chair's space between them. Katarina flicked her green eyes to the seat next to the monster. Swain had done that on purpose, Katarina realized. Her teeth gritted. Katarina spotted the pair of empty chair next to Riven. The Exile shot off a look that made her feel like a jellyfish in a blast furnace, her fingers tightening around her sword. Katarina gave in, placing herself grudgingly next to Celene. She eyed the Ionian woman who wore an expression that Katarina could only describe as delighted.

Celene broke the silence. "Apple?" The Ionian held the red fruit towards Katarina. The woman glared at Celene. There was a pause.

"Aww, don't be like that, cocoa fingers, they're good for you," Celene said through a smirk. Katarina's eyes narrowed. Celene placed the fruit in front of the assassin before quickly withdrawing her hand. Caitlyn's lips curved softly upward into an amused smile.

"So, what brings you here, General?" Marten said, turning his attention from the antics. Swain looked at him stoically. The table was silent.

"Well, put bluntly. I'm scouting out my competition," Swain answered, looking squarely at Celene. Celene closed her eyes, leaning her head back.

"So, you're the man whose day I'm ruining?" Celene replied, looking at the ceiling. Swain remained motionless, not responding to the threat. Celene stretched, opening her mouth to speak.

"Well, considering you're on a cane, you probably don't stand much of a chance, as I'm sure you know from seeing your redheaded psychopath rip through her entire team." Celene opened her eyes, leering at Swain. It felt out of place- even when seated Swain had nearly two whole feet on the woman, muting the threat. She decided to avoid bringing the summoners' balance changes to light as the Grand General looked back at her impassively, not keen on her games. The man was still, as if deep in thought. Beyal asked Swain something from the other end of the table. Celene had stopped listening.

Celene took a deep breath, her chest beginning to feel hot. "What to do," she said idly to herself, looking up at the ceiling. Her head rolled sideways, looking Katarina over. The redhead was repeatedly stabbing the apple in front of her with a throwing knife, her head propped up by her left hand. Katarina noticed the blue eyes looking at her. She glanced sideways at the Ionian and gave the fruit a particularly vicious jab.

_I wonder how she does at parties,_ Celene thought with a smile. Katarina stood the small knife on its tip, pinning it vertically under her index finger. The assassin looked incredibly bored as she flicked the knife with her other hand, causing it to spin against the wooden grain of the table. The conversation at the table had reduced itself to a dull incoherent buzz. Celene felt her attention faltering as she slid into a trance. The soft scraping of the spinning knife, Riven drumming her fingers nervously on the wood, the metallic clink of Irelia's armour every time she shifted, all seemed to increase in volume. Celene set her head down on her arms. The hood of her cloak fell forward, covering her raven hair. She felt herself yawn as the idea of sleep crept into the back of her mind. Her eyelids finally became too heavy and slid shut, stemming all light and muting sound. Her thoughts stilled as time seemed to blur.

The table jerked vigorously, snapping Celene back to reality. The sudden motion caused her forehead to bounce before slamming into the wood. Her eyes snapped open, a flash of anger streaking across her vision. She sat bolt upright, scanning the table for the offender. Her head throbbed.

"That is ENOUGH!" Garen yelled loudly in the Grand General's direction, his gauntlet-clad fist slamming into the table a second time.

"As the Might of Demacia and the leader of the Dauntless Vanguard, I will not allow this man's corrupt dealings and words in my presence!" Garen boomed, his voice carrying with ease across the chatter in the hall. Garen pushed himself to his feet, his left hand falling to the sheathed broadsword at his hip. A soft puff carried across the table. A small, gloved hand landed on Garen's much larger one. Katarina sat in a half crouch on the table. The assassin narrowed her eyes at Garen, her right hand wrapped around the cutlass at her hip. Excitement exploded across her face. Garen uncharacteristically mirrored the expression.

_Oh__, shit._ The curse flashed through Celene's head. Katarina turned her eyes to her right. Everyone was on their feet. Lux gritted her teeth behind her lips, straining to maintain her showcase smile dispute the stress as she aimed her baton at Katarina's face. The six summoners had their fingers curled in their sleeves, ready to interfere. Vayne bit her lip slightly, the redhead filling her automatic crossbow's sights. Irelia looked almost excited, her hovering weapon pointing itself menacingly at the assassin. Akali flicked the kamas into her hands, not rising from her seat. A long pause followed. Celene blinked, forcing the heat in her chest out of her mind.

A tap of wood against stone sounded. In the tense silence of the fully alert packed dining hall, the dull clunk drifted to the far wall, returning as an echo. Swain pushed himself with some effort to his feet. He gave everyone a blank look before his red eyes settled on Garen. He held the gaze.

"Very well, Might of Demacia, I shall respect your wish," Swain said stoically, his voice betraying nothing. Katarina felt her jaw hit the table in surprise. She snapped her eyes to the General with an odd mix of rage and complete confusion. Swain had already begun to take his leave. He motioned to her to follow. The assassin growled, standing fully upright on the table top before disappearing in a brief purple cloud. The metallic clink and rattling of weapons being lowered in unison was the only sound as Swain hobbled from sight, Katarina in tow. Every summoner in the hall exhaled sighs of relief.

Celene frowned. She wished she had been paying attention. "What did he even say?" She finally asked, watching Akali slip her somewhat unorthodox weapons into her sash.

"He offered us attendance to a festival," Akali answered softly. She sat at ease as though nothing had happened. Celene turned her eyes to Garen. The man was still standing, hand on his sword.

"Just over a festival?" Celene asked no one. Garen snapped his gaze to her, everything about his expression screaming "shut up". Celene smirked to herself before leaning her back against her chair.

"How long was I asleep?" Celene asked, noting the sudden lack of food on the table.

"An hour and twelve minutes," Caitlyn said calmly from behind Alistar's massive forearm, snapping her golden stopwatch shut with a loud click. Celene sighed, unsure how to occupy herself until her match. The monster scanned the hall again allowing her eyes to slide slowly out of focus. She shook her head, messy hair flying in all directions.

"So, what type of festival is this?" Celene asked Akali. The ninja looked at her oddly. Celene ignored the questioning expression, standing her ground.

"From what he said, it's a celebration of the peacetime between cities that's resulted from the League" Akali finished. Celene cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly intrigued. Her eyes turned to Garen. The man had returned to his chair, his features harder than normal, deep in thought.

"You think it's a trap, don't you," Celene said softly, eyeing Garen. The man didn't move.

"Of course it's a trap!" Garen snapped. The man sighed, looking down at his plate. "But deciding the course of action is not my place. Luxanna, we leave for Demacia tomorrow morning. We must inform the King," Garen finished, his face remarkably grim. He pushed himself to his feet, his armour scraping the edge of the table as he rose. Lux remained seated, looking up worriedly at her brother.

Garen scanned the table, his eyes passing over the silent group of summoners, eyes and ears tuned acutely on the developing politics. The Piltover woman and her massive bovine friend both disconnected, talking quietly amongst themselves. The Ionians sat stoically, deep in thought over the situation. Riven and Vayne seemed to be having a staring contest. The Might of Demacia was unsure how long the competition had been taking place. He finally locked his eyes on the demon that seemed to have befriended his sister, her blue eyes fixing on his as if reading his mind. Garen stood his ground against the gaze, refusing to show any weakness.

"And you," Garen pointed at Celene. The monster began a countdown in her head, crossing her legs idly.

_T__hree, t__wo__,__ one__._ The thought finished behind Celene's eyes.

"You will remain here. I respect your relationship with Luxanna and myself, but I cannot allow a creature such as yourself near the King." Celene raised an eyebrow at him. She completely understood the man's logic, but her rebellious personality took the order as a challenge.

"Garen, with respect, I've been a king before, it's a lot more work than it's worth. If I had wanted to do it again, I would be in Demacia already instead of the League," Celene said flatly, the annoyance leaking into her voice. Garen locked eyes with her, identifying the challenge to his order. The man strongly disliked insubordination. There was a silence.

Vayne's sharp voice split the tension between the two. "Garen, I will accompany you to Demacia." Her tone was flat, her eyes on Celene. The woman drummed her fingers on her crossbow's handle. Celene looked at her sideways, a teasing smile crossing her face at the Nighthunter's intentions.

"Celene, you should spend your remaining time in the training rooms, preparing for your match." Garen said, the power in his voice disguising the dismissiveness of his tone. The man was annoyed, frustrated and dreading the following day. He sighed again as Celene cocked her head at him. Garen turned, beginning a faster than normal march from the hall. He decided to file Celene's behavior as childish rather than traitorous or threatening. She meant no harm, it was simply her way. Her friendship with Lux and her respect for the body she kept told Garen this.

He pushed the thought from his head as he ducked through the doorway, spying the Demacian standard hanging from the wooden doors. He quickened his pace. Garen slammed the palm of his gauntlet against the wood, parting the doors with ease. He ran the logistics required over in his head. He would need to arrange an escort, to contact the Demacian gates via pigeon to warn of his and Luxanna's arrival. His mind paused at Luxanna. Garen's face softened, remembering the way Lux had been looking at him. _Worry__,_ he pondered for a moment. The look was familiar; when Garen first left home, when he was deployed in Demacia's defense, when he rode, when he sailed, when he trained, when he was first accepted into the League, before every match, that expression. That expression was all that betrayed Luxanna's happy-go-lucky "good luck!" as a "be safe, I love you." Garen felt himself smile, remembering what he was defending as he pushed the door to his room open.

–

The latch clicked into place, sealing the Nighthunter's chamber from the outside world. Light inside the room was dim, the air heavy with dust from Vayne's hundreds of tomes. Little light entered through the single window's dusty glass. Vayne crossed the room in a stride, removing the feather cape from her shoulders. The room blackened as the woman draped the cape in front of the window, a practiced habit as she easily trapped the garment's sides on the window's upper corners. Vayne turned, eyeing the blond teenager over her red-lensed glasses. Lux seemed to glow unnaturally, her aptitude for magic making her glimmer in what little light entered under the Nighthunter's wooden door.

Lux folded her arms in front of her chest, her bracers clinking softly against her breastplate as she scowled at Vayne. The change in Lux's attitude was rather jarring. The girl's smile had vaporized with the click of Vayne's lock, her eyes now poisonous.

"Now, what do you want," Lux said, leaning against Vayne's door. The Nighthunter began to pace along her usual route, taking her from her desk, to her bed, to her door. Her steps were hurried.

"What do you know about her?" Vayne muttered. She was doubtful of the amount of information she could get out of the girl, but anything new could be of use.

Lux remained silent for a moment. "I know she's no threat to you or Demacia," Lux said condescendingly. Vayne paused for a moment, examining the mage.

"This isn't about Demacia, this is about justice. She's a monster, a parasite. She can only steal," Vayne hissed.

Lux's expression remained unchanged. "This is about your justice, Vayne, you're wrapping a twisted morality around your endless craving for vengeance." Vayne froze, her back to the girl. The Nighthunter clenched and unclenched her fists; the leather covering her hands creaked audibly in protest.

"Why do you defend her..." The words came slow.

"Because she hates what she is. Her situation prevents the world from giving fair treatment until now. She tries to justify herself through action, not excuses," Lux said, a hint of anger leaking into her voice. As controlled as she was, the blonde had a surprisingly fiery temper- something the military had spent countless hours trying to condition out of her. Lux secretly took pride in its existence, its steadiness through her trials made her feel strong.

Vayne visibly stiffened. "Need I question your loyalty, Luxanna?" The Nighthunter shot back.

Lux snorted at the idea of her loyalty. Her lips curved. "Need I question your sanity? I endured a lot for my loyalty, and still do to this day." Vayne looked over her shoulder, her expression standard for the Nighthunter. She regarded Lux with deadly eyes.

"You think you're alike? Is it because she needs to lie to about what she is, just like you need to lie to get acceptance from your parents?" Vayne said, her voice unnervingly calm. Lux tensed, she gritted her teeth.

_Vayne wants to make this little game personal. That's fine,_ Lux thought. "At least I _have_ parents, Vayne." she snapped, aiming for the Nighthunters heart. Vayne snarled and whirled around, the crossbow on her wrist snapping level with Lux's face. The hextech motor whirred to life, loading a silver bolt from the rack as Vayne pulled the trigger into her hand. Lux's hand closed around the Baton at her hip for the second time that day, pulling the rod upward and leveling the weapon with Vayne's chest. It hummed dangerously, illuminating the room in a dancing array of colors. The two paused.

Vayne broke the silence, speaking slowly through the sights on her crossbow. "Exactly, mine are nothing but an example to me now. Think of all the families she's torn apart by just existing."

"You think she doesn't know that? What really makes her a monster, Vayne? What she's done or what she is? Both are forgivable." Lux said angrily, her armour shining in the dance of lights.

"It doesn't matter why she's a monster, you ignorant child! It only matters that she is- the sentience is the same!" Vayne bellowed back. Lux cocked her head at her, lowering the baton to her side.

"Then what are you?" Lux asked.

"I am Vayne, the Nighthunter," she answered. "This is a waste of time." she said, lowering her crossbow and resuming her pacing. Lux rolled her eyes, showing herself out. The door clicked as the woman left. Vayne was unsure how long she paced, turning the situation over and over. She settled herself- her emotions would not control her. There was no place for such corruption in her heart. The plan was to remain unchanged since she joined the League. It would disband at some point- then was the time for action. For now, she would wait and bide her time, learn all she could.

"_Excuse me, Nighthunter,__i__t__'__s Summoner Wilhelm__.__T__he draft is about to commence. Are your ready for your match?__"_ Vayne crossed her room, scooping up her heavy crossbow from against her wall and a belt of bolt racks. She locked them into place at her hip. She reached up to the top over her window frame, the feather cape whirling around her shoulders dramatically. The woman fixed the heavy crossbow's strap across her chest and stood.

Vayne bowed her head slightly, looking over her glasses at the painting of her parents that sat on her desk. "I'm always ready," she said aloud as the blue runes wrote themselves around her feet.

"_Very well then, to war."_ The world vanished.

The group seemed to produce a wave of chatter as they walked. The summoners clearly excited over what was about to take place. Champion reactions we're mixed. Irelia, Shen and Akali all walked in unnerving silence.

"So what's the game plan?" Werhan asked, braking through the wall of jokes. Celene pushed her fits of giggles away long enough to listen. Everyone seemed to have been wondering the same thing. The summoners looked at each other, waiting for someone to answer the question. Werhan shrugged.

"How about we get Akali fed and have her carry us until Irelia hits critical mass?" Wiles said. Celene felt her fit of giggle erupt again at how the Piltover man butchered the green-clad ninja's name. The laughter seemed infectious as the rest of the summoners began to snort and giggle.

"Akelia," Celene imitated before being overcome by giggles. Irelia and Akali looked at each other as Marten wrapped his fingers around the brass knob to the summoning chamber. The door swung inward and the group filed inside.

"YOU IGNORANT, INCOMPETENT WORM!" A high pitched squeak came from the room's center.

A yordle clad in navy-blue robes stood in the middle of the room, angrily striking a mousy summoner with a staff nearly twice his height. A magical shroud hid the yordle's face from view, a pair of glowing yellow eyes the only visible things under the rim of his large, pointed hat.

"When Valoran is mine, pigs like you will be the first to be executed publicly!" The small wizard squeaked. He swung the staff down at the curled up summoner again. The man put his arms in front of his face. The rest of his team looked at each other, hiding amused smiles. Celene covered her mouth. The combination of intimidating speech with the wizard's high pitch proved too much as she burst into a fit of cackling laughter. Marten smirked at her under his hood; her laugh didn't fit her appearance, though she wasn't in the same boat as Lux- the sound was extremely feminine.

The yordle mage whirled around, allowing the summoner to stagger to his feet and back to his snickering friends. "What are YOU laughing at!? Wench!" All the summoners took a step away from the Ionian girl. Celene kept her hand over her mouth, forcing the giggles back.

"Need I make an example of your pathetic form like I did the worms?!" The voice echoed. Wiles and Werhan looked at each other with excited grins. The mage advanced a tiny step. Celene wiped her eyes on her sleeve, her gaze meeting the narrowing yellow orbs under the buckle-covered hat.

"I'm sorry, I- you- I just-" Celene paused, stemming another few giggles, her hands landing on her cheeks. "You're... just...so..."

"Horrifying?" The mage squeaked, a hint of pride leaking into his whistle pitched voice. Celene balled her fists at her cheek, gasping with a massive open mouthed smile.

"SO CUTE!" Celene squealed. She was on the mage in a blue flash before he could react. Her thin arms wrapped around the yordle tightly, lifting him with ease from the floor of the summoning chamber. Marten couldn't help but snort at the sight. The mage squeaked as the Ionian crushed him, his yellow eyes round as pie plates in surprise. Celene half twirled. The yordle's oversized hat crumpled against her chest as he flailed, trying to get free.

"Release me, or I'll swallow your soul!" The yordle yelled, his voice a mixture of high-pitched anger and distress. His oversized, spike-covered metal gloves pushed against his captor, trying to separate himself from the barely five foot tall cloaked Ionian. Her grip tightened as the mage spoke. Celene squealed.

"I don't have a soul!~~" She squealed, her voice loaded with what seemed to be pure joy. She squeezed the mage more tightly, eliciting a squeak. Everyone stared, dumbstruck, unsure whether to help the yordle or turn and run. Irelia found herself legitimately wondering if the already rather unstable girl had spontaneously gone insane.

The mage brought his staff up and jabbed the very distracted Ionian in the forehead. The chamber filled with a crackling blue light as the weapon electrocuted the woman. Celene dropped the yordle with a thunk and lost her balance, slumping into a limp sitting position. She flopped forward, her front against her crossed legs, giggling. The mage snarled, the pitch rather amusing as he gave the girl another jab for good measure, filling the room with blue light and electric crackling briefly.

"Heh he he heh owww," Celene managed before limply slumping to her side. Marten noted her hair was standing on end, a smile still across her lips, though she looked very dazed. The elder summoner briefly wondered if she would get up and teleport to hug the mage again. As amusing as the sight was, having her die moments before being summoned to a political match would be inconvenient. Marten hid his smirk, deciding Celene had the common sense not to try again. Something in the back of his head told him she didn't, but he ignored it, crossing his arms.

"That will teach you to mess with Veigar! The Master of Evil!" The mage squeaked, placing his oversized spiky gauntlets on his tiny hips. He turned and marched from the hall with short yet rather fast steps, pushing his way forcefully past Akali's knee.

"Out of the way, fools!" He squeaked, hopping to reach the door knob. Everyone's eyes fell on Celene as the mage left. Akali casually pushed the door shut with her foot, joining in the stunned silence. The room seemed to explode in laughter as all eleven summoners clenched their sides, cackling madly, Wiles and Werhan leaned against each other to stay upright. Beyal had his hand over his face, embarrassed he thought the event was so funny. Celene sat up, her hair on end, her cloak smoking slightly.

The door clicked as the knob twisted. A woman with white hair slid into the room, her ice-blue eyes scanning the laughing summoners. Her mouth was slightly ajar in confusion behind her hood as she pushed the door closed behind her with another click.

"I really missed something, didn't I?" Ashe said to nobody, adjusting the bow on her shoulder. Marten hauled Celene to her feet. She stumbled, her muscles still somewhat unresponsive, as the laughing died.

"You're retarded," Marten said flatly to Celene, electing snorts from Wiles and Werhan. As Marten looked at the perverse group of summoners with a cheerful smile, he motioned to the door. "Shoo." The summoners shrugged to each other, passing the new group as the all climbed the few steps toward the room's center.

Marten placed himself behind Beyal, watching him over his shoulder. The summoners arranged themselves in a ring. The champions did the same, all facing their summoner. Celene ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get the mass to lay flat. After a few thrashings with her thin fingers, she gave up, descending to watch Beyal. The summoner placed his hands on the sides of the floating sphere in front of himself.

"You're right, summoning her is weird," Beyal muttered to Marten behind him. Beyal flicked his fingers across the orb's surface as it glowed to life, displaying the room. Celene pulled her hood up, seeing how ridiculous she looked. Beyal grinned to himself, watching her hide the mess through the sphere.

"Bilgewater team says they're waiting to sync," Marten announced. Celene looked around as the runes began to write themselves on the floor. Looks of complete focus met her- even the more comedic summoners had replaced there normal smiles and grins. Akali vanished next to the monster with a whoosh, blue light shooting through the ceiling before disappearing. The rest of the champions followed suit. Celene was the only one left; the ring around her feet seemed to be producing a noticeable amount of wind. Celene grasped the inside of her cloak to keep it from flying upwards off of her shoulders. Beyal bit the inside of his lip. He looked as if he was trying to lift something very heavy, his face contorting in effort. Marten, watching the orb in front of him, smiled softly with an approving nod.

"Good luck, try not to die," he said, eyeing Celene before the world disappeared.

Celene pulled her cloak more tightly around her as she floated in blackness. The monster scanned her team. Everyone sat cross-legged but her and Irelia. The Ionians met eyes. Irelia looked down at Celene skeptically.

"Yes?" Celene said. Irelia narrowed her green eyes. Her face seemed to contort in thought

Irelia groaned. "Just remember what you represent."

Celene tilted her head, gesturing the Swain across the void. "You sound worried. He's on a cane, Irelia, how can I possibly fuck this up?" Irelia glared at Celene's use of language. The monster smirked back. Pushing the woman's buttons was remarkably easy.

"You lack balance. Just defeat him honorably," Irelia turned to face the opposing team. Celene decided a little reconnaissance couldn't hurt and turned with her. Swain stood directly across from her, leaning on his wooden cane. His red eyes regarded Celene stoically. To his right stood Vayne and a champion Celene hadn't seen before. The champion in question was a woman, scantly clothed in relieving white robes. She floated about a foot above the ground. Her thick blond hair fluttered above her head, blown upwards by a wind Celene couldn't feel. The Nighthunter's posture was aggressive, her eyes turned away from Celene and her team, looking beyond Swain. The monster traced Vayne's gaze. The woman glared at a floating black form. Celene squinted, the shape of the other monster's body difficult to make out against the black void. What Celene could see was a mouth-less face with a pair of white pupil-less eyes. A pair of thick, ragged blades seemed to be attached to the monster's arms.

"Irelia, I will not struggle with this one," Akali spoke from Celene's left. The ninja pointed to man standing as far away as possible from the monster Celene had just examined. The man wore a red trenchcoat unbuttoned around his shoulders. A strap lined with flintlock pistols crossed his left shoulder. He took a long swig from the canteen that hung from his belt before pouring what remained onto the cutlass in his right hand. Celene looked back to the ninja.

"Watch the guns," the monster said flatly. She really liked something about Akali, but was unable to put her finger on what. The ninja shifted her gaze towards the warning. Celene shifted under the utterly cold regard of the ninja, the eyes one could only have after killing a lot of people made the monster step backward. She blinked in surprise. Akali was frightening.

"Coward's weapons," Akali replied, her tone in perfect mirror with Celene's through her thick accent. Celene looked away, placing her mind on the realization that Irelia lacked the accent. The smile faded. Celene scanned her team again, out of boredom this time, her blue eyes clawing for something interesting. Nothing was found. Shen stood motionless, arms crossed at his chest. Ashe was sitting cross-legged, reading with her bow resting in her lap. Akali mirrored the archer's pose, her green eyes locked on the very obvious pirate across from her. Irelia was running a fine white silken cloth over the blades that hovered in front of her. When she finished with one, it floated around behind her. Another twisted around her shoulder and stilled in front of her, vibrating slightly. Judging from Celene's counting, Irelia was nearly finished. The monster's attention faltered, silently wondering if all matches took this long to get going.

"_I would like to say that you don't strike me as the type to be intim__id__ated. But we're ready, b__roadcast problems or something."_ Beyal's voice cracked through Celene's thoughtless brain. She perked up, evening her posture.

"_Have you ever actually been stared down by her? What she does is nothing to her__-__ it's like breathing,__"_ Celene snapped over the tether which tensed as Beyal paused, unsure what to say.

"_Anything I should be worried about?__"_ Celene wordlessly broke the silence, eyeing Swain. The man hadn't moved much in the last few minutes, his eyes still on her.

"_Not really. Your mobility should give you a great match up against him. Jus__t watch out for his snare __spell__,"_ Beyal answered. Even he sounded bored. There was a silence, the tether between their thoughts left intact.

"_Sayyy,__"_ Beyal said, nervousness in his tone. _"__Do you... perhaps... kno__w why Katarina is upset with me?" _Celene choked, the question catching her off guard. Irelia looked at her oddly, not perceiving a reason for the sound. The monster composed herself, keeping her eyes on Swain. The General had leaned in slightly, his eyes narrow.

"_You like her__,"_ Celene teased.

"_Not romantically."_

"_Bullshit."_

"_Okay__,__ FI__NE. Do you know?"_ His tone had returned to normal- he sounded almost impatient.

Celene decided to step around the question. _"She's crazy, Beyal,"_ she answered, running her fingers through her hair.

"_That's why I'm asking you__,"_ Beyal shot back, his tone defensive.

"_Fuck you__,"_ Celene said, the smirk leaking onto her face. She meant no harm.

"_No thanks, I like my soul where it is__,"_ Beyal teased. _"__So you don't know why she's upset?__"_

"_In all seriousness I__ don't. You could just ask her. B__ring some chocolate, mayb__e buy her something she'd like?"_ Celene's smirk was widening. The last thing she thought she'd be doing when Marten knocked on her door that morning was offering relationship advice.

"_...What does she like?__"_ Beyal asked, he sounded embarrassed.

"_She didn't look that hard to shop for."_

"_Well?"_

"_Try knives."_

A low whoosh filled Celene's ears. The sound raised in volume until it was a deafening scream. Her feet slammed into the stone platform from before.

"_Game time__,"_ Beyal muttered mentally.

"Welcome to Summoner's Rift!" The announcer echoed over the field. Celene watched a flock of startled birds emerge for the trees.

"_Boots, Two, one, if your please."_ Beyal stated flatly. Celene cocked her head as she reached the shopkeeper's stall. The yordle behind the wooden establishment seemed not to notice her.

"_Pardon?"_ Celene asked, a pause following.

"_Boots, two health potions__,__ an__d a mana potion, if you please,"_ the answer came after a moment. Celene nodded, deciding not to tax the mental link farther by answering as she placed her hand on the stalls wooden counter. She could feel the enchantments attach to her as her hand lifted.

Celene took off down the middle lane with a paced jog, her cloak billowed behind her. After a minute of silent running she reached her second tower. Swain was nowhere in sight. He had to hobble all the way there she remembered, leaning her back against the warm stone of her tower. After a minute or so the General limped into view. He placed his hand on his chin, popping his neck one way, then the other before continuing his uneven march. The man advanced passed the middle of the lane, just like Katarina had.

"_Celene, eyes front,"_ Beyal piped up.

"_I see him,"_ Celene answered, watching Swain carefully out of the corner of her eye. The man limped forward still, halting just so the tips of his toes sat brushing up against the runes that marked Celene tower range. The two looked at each other for a moment. Swain casually tapped his cane against the earth. An avian screech filled Celene's ear, the ground beneath her lit up purple.

"_Move!"_ Beyal yelled. Celene disappeared, reappearing with her fingers wrapped around the front of Swain's collar. She grinned devilishly, shifting her weight to haul the man in. His liver-spotted hand wrapped around her wrist. Swain ripped Celene's hand from his clothing, pivoting and throwing the girl over his shoulder with surprising ease. Her back hit the ground and Swain twisted her wrist. Celene bit her lip in pain, disappearing again. Her feet touched the ground in front of her tower, her cloak settling around her shoulders. The ground glowed purple, the screech from before rising again. Swain had predicted her move. Celene disappeared again, reappearing a good distance behind her tower clutching her wrist. Swain rested his cane inside the crook of his arm, bringing his hands together with a clap. He repeated a few times, his eyes regarding her with the same stoic red as before.

"_He doesn't h__ave his bird,"_ Beyal said, his speech slow. Celene knew from a little bit of research that Swain cast a decent number of spells through the animal. She felt her lips split, remembering is absence before the match as well.

"Minions have spawned!" The announcer echoed again. Celene's chest burned, despite the stress these matches were something she thoroughly enjoyed. She inhaled fully through her nose.

_This is going to be fun,_ she thought to herself, advancing.

–

Katarina readjusted her chin against her palm, her green eyes fixed on the large orb in the center of the room. She crossed her legs. The promise of food and watching Swain fight Celene was enough to pull her from her solitude and into public. The redhead liked neither of the combatants very much, so the fight was a win-win for her, as someone had to lose. The match had progressed fifteen minutes without a drop of blood, aside from the small middle lane scuffle at the beginning. The assassin admitted to herself that she was bored, uncrossing her legs then recrossing them.

"And we see Nocturne setting up for a gank in middle lane. Celene, on the Ionian team, has no idea he's there; she doesn't have any wards in place," the deeper-voiced of the two summoners spoke of the match.

"I think she'll know in just a moment, just need Swain to land Nevermore," said the higher-pitched summoner. Katarina was beginning to wonder about the stability of the summoners as she regarded how carelessly they spoke about human lives. The redhead laughed to herself audibly, earning a few glances from those sitting across the three chair separation on either side.

_I'm one to talk,_ Katarina thought to herself as Swain stepped forward to make his move. The purple incantation screeched slightly in front of Celene as she jogged horizontally along the minion line. The monster disappeared, avoiding it with ease. She reappeared on the other side of the lane, less than twenty feet from Nocturne who was concealed in reeds of the river. Katarina felt a smile sprout on her lips. Celene really had no idea how dead she was, Katarina mused, her mind lighting up with images of what the monstrous living nightmare would do to her. Swain hobbled towards his target. Katarina's jaw dropped along with everyone's as the Grand General tripped, losing his balance and stumbling forward. He caught himself, his eyes leveling to meet Celene's as a wave of blue tendrils exploded from her cloak. Swain managed to right himself just before the one hundred pounds of Ionian struck him, taking him off balance again.

"_Master tactician", hah,_ Katarina thought with a smirk as the General was pinned in a tangled web of blue strands. Celene leaned in, looking for blood. The ground screeched. Celene had only enough time to realize what was going on. Three purple magical talons bit into the Ionian's thighs. The girl squeaked in pain and surprise before disappearing. Celene reappeared just outside of her tower's range, her damaged legs buckling under her as Nocturne came rocketing from the bush after her. The two met eyes as the gap was closed. Celene seemed to freeze, her body going ridged for just long enough for Nocturne to close the gap. Celene began to shake her head, attempting to fight off the mental assault the spectators couldn't see but knew was taking place. She lost. Nocturne used the momentum from his lightning-fast charge and rammed the heavy blade fixed to his arm through the Ionian's chest.

"First blood!" The announcer's voice boomed over Summoner's Rift and through the dining hall. Nocturne narrowed his pupil-less eyes, lifting the girl with ease. Celene gasped in pain, her thin fingers clutching the weapon that supported her. She began to thrash wildly, her feet kicking, trying to reach the ground three feet away as the living nightmare had his way with her thoughts. Nocturne snarled, slamming the blade holding the Ionian into the ground. He jabbed her in the chest and stomach twice with the blade on his left. Celene lay motionless, clearly dead. Nocturne looked at the body, using his left blade to pin the girl while he withdrew the right much the same way you'd pin meat with a knife to remove a fork.

"And first blood goes to the Bilgewater team," the deeper summoner piped up, rather unphased by the brutality that had just taken place. Katarina was feeling her mood improving drastically. She sat, arms folded across her breasts, watching the match progress with renewed interest.

–

Celene's feet slammed into the stone of the summoning platform. The girl failed in every field to keep her balance and fell into a crumpled heap. She curled up, breathing heavily. Her thin fingers pushed themselves under her heavy shirt, rubbing between her breasts where Nocturne had stabbed her. She knew that kind of attack and wasn't one bit surprised to see Nocturne in the League of Legends. Though she was unsure how he got his nightmarish hands on a physical body or why he had decided to call himself Nocturne, the thought-sifting mental assaults were unmistakably his. His work had been hasty but effective. Not given the time to properly search the abnormally large amount of memories Celene had, he had settled on forcing her to relive being discovered by the man she loved in Ionia. Celene bite her lip, shaking.

"_That's your first death? You're good. Don__'__t worry about it, it's unnerving for everybody__,"_ Beyal piped up. Celene was unable to muster the concentration to answer him. She vigorously shook her head.

_Nocturne has done this to you before, steel yourself and don't let him in,_ Celene thought to herself, remembering the amount of time she had spent learning to keep the crippling dreams away. She raised her head. Anger thumped in the back of her mind like a heartbeat as she shakily pushed herself to her feet.

"_You're okay?__"_ Beyal asked. Celene nodded.

"_I didn't know he was here,"_ Celene answered mentally. She could feel her thoughts clearing. The monster briefly mused at what Nocturne would do if she stole the first body he'd ever had.

"_I told you earlier today he was; you know him?__"_ Beyal said, ripping her from the pleasant thought.

She began to jog towards her lane again, rubbing her chest as she ran.

"_He's never had a name__ before, but I'm familiar,"_ Celene answered mentally. Her chest felt as if it was going to explode. The girl bit her lip, attempting to keep her demon under control.

"_I can take over if you like; I can f__eel you wrestling with yourself,__"_ Beyal said, concerned. Celene didn't have time to answer.

"An ally has been slain! Purple team double kill!" The announcer echoed across the field. Celene slowed her pace, frowning slightly.

"_I get the feeling we're losing,"_ she sent through the mental tether. Beyal sighed from the other end.

"_Uhh__,__i__t's recoverable__,"_he answered. Celene felt inexplainably inclined to head through the forest to the bottom lane. The monster instantly acted on the urge, knowing from earlier that Beyal was sending it. Celene ducked through the tall grass, peeking her hooded head out before proceeding. She could hear fighting up ahead. The Ionian ducked low, moving as silently as she could. The thunk of a crossbow and snarls grew louder. The monster could tell just from the sound what was going on. Vayne and her support had decided to raid their elder lizard camp after killing bottom lane.

"_On second__, thought turn around-__ she's fed__,"_ Beyal said. Celene narrowed her eyes and disappeared. The Ionian reappeared in her lane- the Grand General was in sight. His red eyes locked on her.

"Welcome back to the living," Swain said casually. He took a step forward before clubbing one of minions over the head with his cane. Celene raised her arm, parting her cloak. She impaled the minion closest to the man.

"_Beyal, why is he talking?"_ She asked mentally. Her hand turned slightly toward the Grand General, a single strand rocketing towards him. Swain slapped it out of the way with his cane before tapping the instrument on the ground, summoning up another Nevermore. Celene vanished, casually avoiding it, this time staying neatly in the center of her lane.

"_I honestly have no idea. The only reason he wou__ld is if he's not being piloted,"_ Beyal answered. Celene felt her attention shifted to a minion being pelted with small balls of light by four of her mage minions. She let her attention slip, allowing Beyal to take over and time her attack so the minion was indeed hers.

"Purple team has slain an enemy!" The announcer boomed.

"_Fuck,__"_ Beyal said, _"Akali just got dog__piled__ up__ top.__"_ Celene retreated slightly closer to her tower.

"_Are we fucked,"_ Celene asked casually. She impaled the last minion in Swain's current wave just before it reached the range of her tower.

"_Probabl__y, Vayne has all of those kills,"_ Beyal answered. Celene made out a hint of frustration in his voice. She frowned as Beyal steered her body to her right and out of lane in a rather obvious manner.

She allowed him the control despite the fear of him getting her killed. Dying in the League was strange. It felt more like falling asleep then waking up on your feet, free of pain on the summoning platform. It was not nearly as uncomfortable as she had imagined it would be. She smiled to herself as her body was moved down an embankment towards the water. She was now the only person that could say they have really died multiple times as well as died and been saved by resurrection.

"_So__,__ do you know what you're going to do?__"_ Celene asked, watching herself wade into the river as if it were a play. Her vision was beginning to haze blue at the edges as Beyal took more assertive control over her actions.

"_Well, try and sneak a dragon kill__,__ and hope they fuck up__," _he answered, sounding considerably more engaged.

"_I was talking ab__out Katarina. There's a dragon?"_ Celene said, her interest piqued. Beyal took a moment to answer, communing with his team, Celene guessed as her body parted a patch of reeds in the river's center. Irelia looked at her with an unnaturally blank stare as the Ionian stepped into the reeds. Ashe crouched low beside her, the archer's expression identical. Celene noticed Beyal had yet to move a single muscle on his face. She imagined her look was the same.

"_It's actually just a magical__ construct,"_ Beyal answered. He seemed to be juggling conversations. _"__As for Kat, I don't know. Probably what you said I should do.__"_

"_Take her to dinner?"_ Celene suggested. A sigh that said _Fine _wasthe only answer. She giggled internally before her interest pulled her from the thought. Something about Beyal's focus was amusing. Enough so to make her laugh, but her body didn't obey; the sound still filled her thoughts.

_Maybe Earth isn't so tortured and imprisoned as I first thought,_ Celene thought to herself. She watched as she, Irelia and Ashe emerged from the bush. The group turned into entrance of what appeared to be a keyhole-shaped pit intersecting the river. Inside was indeed a dragon. It sat on its hind legs, motionless. Celene paid acute attention. Magic could do some truly amazing things. A twinge of excitement spiked in her chest at the future she was utterly positive she would experience.

The creature didn't move a muscle, even when Shen emerged from behind it. Its eyes were still as a statue, staring straight ahead at nothing. Irelia moved her way to the front of the group and charged the motionless creature. She moved her fingers. The levitating blades rocketed from behind her and slammed into the creature's scales with an audible ring of finely-crafted metal. The dragon sprang to life with a rough, swiping at Irelia with its clawed front foot. The woman ducked as if avoiding a low-hanging door frame and attacked again. Celene watched the fight unfold. Her body leapt into action, barraging the creature with blue strands.

The arena seemed to dim noticeably, nothing that would normally register if it had stopped. Summoner's Rift suddenly became as black as the void they had floated in before their arrival. A thundering rumble followed the abnormal darkness. The group disengaged the dragon, retreating quickly from the pit.

"Darkness..." The unnatural voice echoed across the field. Celene couldn't see her teammates- her vision seemed to simply stop a few feet in front of her. All at once, fighting could be heard, the ring of Irelia's weapons singing through the air effortlessly. They collided with something metal. Celene felt the mental tether become taught as her body ran towards the sounds of fighting. Nocturne came screaming into the bubble of the world that surrender her. He swung for her neck. Her body ducked, stumbling in the water. Nocturnes hovering form had no such trouble as Celene felt his consciousness punch its way into her mind. She focused all her attention on it, imagining building a wall between herself and the alien feeling. The defense had always felt crude but seemed to keep the mental assault at bay.

"Purple team has slain an enemy!" The announcer shouted over the chaos, following the single loud gunshot that shattered the bubble containing Celene and Nocturne. The darkness was retreating, the bubble growing in size as Beyal ordered Celene's body to disappear. Her feet hit the water again with a splash, placing Irelia between herself and the Nightmare that whirled around angrily. Irelia was locked in combat with the pirate. She advanced, forcing the man to take step after step backwards as he tried to fend off Irelia's four floating blades with his single cutlass and smoking pistol. An arrow sailed into the chaos, striking the pirate squarely in the chest. He yelped before being covered in a layer of fast-advancing ice. Irelia impaled him, the blade ripping itself loose as she turned to Nocturne.

"Blue team has slain an enemy."

Celene's body sent a wave of tendrils at Nocturne. They could win, it was three on one. The monster's blue eyes snapped to a section of water just outside the keyhole. A maelstrom of color and sound was rose from the water. The disturbance centered on a small totem Celene hadn't noticed. Swain stepped from the light storm, tapping his cane. Irelia had no time to move as the talons bit into her legs.

"Die, monster." The voice was low and unmistakably Vayne's. Celene felt the sharp tip of something press against the back of her neck. The weapon discharged with a heavy thunk and Celene fell face first into the river, drifting again towards death. The announcer's call of her defeat sounded muted as her consciousness slipped.

Light shined against Celene's eyelids. They twitched. Celene opened her eyes, shielding her face with her hand. It felt odd to be in charge of her own movement again. Beyal stood over her, offering his hand. She took it and he hauled her to her feet. She felt incredibly tired.

"It's common, don't worry about the exhaustion," Beyal said, patting her on the back. She nodded, happy he was so eager to explain new events to her. She looked around as Beyal lead her from the summoning chamber. Irelia sat on the platform, her face in her hands. Her normally silky hair was a damp, tangled mess. She slammed her fist into the stone platform as Celene followed Beyal through the door. Her face displayed a cross between shame and pure rage, lined with thin tears. The door closed.

"We surrendered after losing the fight at dragon. Dealing with a fed Vayne proved too much today." Beyal said, stopping and placing his hands on his hips. Celene looked at him. She noted he was sweating as she shook the drowsiness from her head.

"I'm going to lay down, okay," Celene said with surprising effort. Her muscles ached, her eyelids feeling like lead weights. Beyal nodded and turned back to the door. Celene began an exhausted march to her room. Her heart lifted slightly at the thought of tomorrow. She would need to see Nocturne as well as travel. A twinge of excitement sucked in a breath as she pulled her door open. The early evening sun shone through her window. She fell forward on her bed, her damp cloak sprawling over her a moment later. Sleep jumped on her like a hungry animal and she died quickly to its claws.

**Author's Notes: LETS DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN! Thank you guys for all your amazing feed back. Nothing really to say this week. Enjoy the reads.**


	7. Sparks and Fire

Chapter 7

Sparks and Fire

The morning air bit her skin. Celene rolled over, her eyes fixating on the window she hadn't bothered to close with a tired glare. The smell of flora and freshly rained on earth filled her room. Sounds of life leaked in from outside. A woman's happy laughing from the gardens below seemed to ring through the morning air. Celene blinked, attempting to shake her brain from sleep. The monster forced herself upright, rubbing her eyes. She stood. Her cloak fell around her shoulders. A pair of summoners walked below her window, holding hands. The male put his fist against his hip. He seemed to be doing an impression as the woman covered her mouth in a fit of giggles. Celene felt herself staring. She tore her eyes away out of respect for their moment, retracing her hastily-conceived plans for the day.

The sound was soft, a tapping of gloved knuckles on wood. In the silence, it grabbed Celene's attention with ease, her blue eyes fixing on her door as she stood motionless, wrapped in her cloak. The monster didn't make a sound, testing if the unexpected guest had respect enough to consider she might still be sleeping. The sound came again, more hastily then the first time. A soft sigh reviled her guest was a woman. Celene, remaining fixated on her door, not making a sound. What followed was a loud thumping as a fist was slammed into her door. Celene felt her interest pique slightly as she inhaled and disappeared.

Her shoulders pressed against the wood of the door as her cloak settled around her. A rather startled Caitlyn was a few inches from her face, eyeing her inquisitively. Celene could see the woman's brain questioning why she didn't just simply answer the door. Caitlyn lowered the fist that was preparing to knock again and looked over her shoulder. The hall was devoid of life.

"Why not just answer the door like a normal person instead of scaring me half to death?" Caitlyn asked, no crossness leaking into her voice. She took a step back, not wanting Celene within a foot of her.

"Why so keen on waking me up with your cop knock?" Celene shot back, examining the woman. Her rifle was strangely absent. Given where Caitlyn was and the amount of dangerous people she was around, the monster expected her to hold it close, but she hadn't seen it outside of summoning chambers and the fields.

"Well, I saw your experience yesterday with Nocturne and wanted to see if you were alright. Besides, knowing you I think you'd appreciate the opportunity for a conversation." Celene smiled softly, nodding. Caitlyn took a short step away from her. She motioned down the hall past Riven's room before taking off with brisk steps. Her boots tapped against the floor as she went, making much more noise than Celene's bare feet.

"Where are we going?" Celene asked as the pair forced the halls door ajar. Caitlyn glanced at her with detective's eyes scanning for information. Her expression softened, closing her eyes and smiling, the cheerfulness of the expression catching Celene off-guard.

"The air is too nice to stay locked inside," Caitlyn said. She halted in front of one of the wooden doors. What was different about it, Celene couldn't see; it looked identical to the thirty others on either side of it. Caitlyn wrapped her fingers around the knob. A loud click came from inside the wooden door as she twisted and pulled it open, revealing a staircase standing before the two women. It arched softly upwards before beginning to tightly spiral after several feet. Caitlyn began ascending, not looking behind her to see if Celene was following. The monster was intrigued, unsure why this door looked like all the others, but led somewhere different. The women climbed in silence, the tapping of Caitlyn's boots filling the tight stairway. The air was decreasing in temperature. Celene guessed they had reached the top of what she assumed was the Institute's lone spire.

Sunlight broke into the stairway around the final bend. The pair found themselves on a stone platform. Six thin pillars, connected by stone railings, marked the corners of the bell-shaped stone roof. The whole structure was overgrown with vines that wound there way upwards towards sunlight. The view was stunning; the city below and the Institute were visible in their entirety. No trees cloaked the roads leading into the small city, allowing Celene to follow them with her eyes for miles. The Great Barrier was shaded light blue by the air as it jutted upward from the earth at the very edge of Celene's vision.

Celene's eyes eventually fell on the circular table complete with a white, steaming teapot and cups that stood in the open room's center. Caitlyn sat herself, her fingers wrapping around the teapot's handle. Celene's eyebrows clambered up her forehead. She smiled, a single laugh escaping as a short exhale through her nose. Caitlyn had prepared the tea and moved the table up here before bothering to get her. Celene took a seat.

"See what I mean?" Caitlyn said over the sound of liquid filling her china cup. She set the teapot down, expecting Celene to pour for herself. Celene grasped the handle of the teapot, seeming to have reached the edge of the sheriff's pleasantries.

"I do," Celene said. The air was still and silent; the lack of wind allowed the sun to be accepted willingly, heating the air to a fairly pleasant temperature. The tea smelled strongly of herbs. Celene lifted the cup to her lip, blowing before tasting the liquid. It was remarkably bitter, biting at her tongue. She took another sip, the strength of the beverage pulling her fully awake.

Celene set the cup down. "Days like this are rare. I was actually meaning to find you," Celene said, placing her elbows on the small table.

"Oh? And why is that?" Caitlyn asked. She slid her chair backward, propping her feet up on the table. Celene guessed she spent a lot of time behind a desk- it made sense for a cop.

"I was wanted to ask you if you knew something, judging from how you set this up you want information from me as well," Celene finished, returning her lips to the rim of her cup. Caitlyn only smiled.

"If you set the situation up right, you need not ask anything at all. Sometimes it gets you better answers than just asking," Caitlyn mused, crossing her ankles. "I figured, being an immortal, you might know about something no one else really does." Celene felt her lips split into a massive grin. She leaned in.

"You're familiar with how conversations like this work between immortals?" Celene asked.

"I am not." The smile shrank, but remained.

"Well, given your inquisitiveness, I think you'll enjoy this. But," Celene raised her finger, her lips curling, "this is forbidden knowledge, used in dealings with demons."

Caitlyn smirked. "Is it now?" She teased. Celene ignored her.

"So, twenty years from now, if this information is readily available, I'll be seeing you. Now that the formalities are done with, let me ask you a question. Say you never die; you have limitless experience at your fingertips- you've done everything mortals dream of. What's left?" Celene asked, leaning back in her chair. She decided Caitlyn's tea was worth a second cup and began to pour herself one.

Caitlyn sat silent for a few moments, her face ponderous. "Well, you would need to make your own entertainment. Your goals?" Caitlyn said, unsure if she was right.

Celene clapped her hands together. "Exactly, most immortals have to be working towards something, or the stagnation drives them insane. For that reason, anything from an immortal is rarely free." Caitlyn sipped her tea, uncrossing her legs and crossing them with the left on top.

"And what are you working towards?" Caitlyn leered at Celene. The expression was mirrored back at her.

"I'm a rare exception."

"So, you're proposing an exchange- a deal?" Caitlyn asked, twirling her wrist to help articulate the statement. Celene nodded, the room dimming noticeably as a cloud passed in front of the sun. The blue glow from Celene's eyes was easily visible, reflecting from the polished china and in Celene's tea.

"A lot of different immortal's behavior comes from deals they make with other immortals. Don't do or do X, and in exchange, I will or won't do Y, so on and so forth. The idea of forbidden information is one of these, actually," Celene explained, sipping her tea. The cloud passed, returning the sun to the back of Celene's neck

"And this is because they all have their own goals they're trying to accomplish," Caitlyn finished for her. Celene nodded.

"Why is it forbidden information? It's a simple concept," the sheriff asked. She had removed her feet from the table and was leaning in, very interested by where the conversation was going.

"Because, think about how many people there are compared to how few of us there are. If everyone with a question came and asked us, it would get very annoying, very fast. The way I've heard others explain it is that immortals are like fire, and mortals are like sparks," Celene answered, she sat her cup down and stretched.

"Riddles?" Caitlyn teased. Celene glanced at her, unsure if this was the sheriff's sense of humor or a stupid question.

"Hardly, just very thought-out analogies to make explaining things simpler," Celene said. She idly fiddled with the brooch that held her heavy cloak on, the circular piece of metal felt smooth under her thin fingers. "Sparks to our fire- it's basically saying that it's foolish for mortals to pursue immortality. Comparing the natures of the two and so on," she finished.

"How does that explain why chasing immortality is foolish?" Caitlyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Imagine what the world would look like if every spark that landed became a fire," Celene said with a grin. She would have to compliment Karthus later on us way with words.

"So then, what would you like to know?" Caitlyn asked, resetting the topic.

"I was wondering if you knew where Nocturne is being held," Celene said flatly, finishing her second cup of tea. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at her.

"Rather mischievous of you, don't you think? May I ask why?" Caitlyn said. Celene felt her lips curl into her signature unnerving smile.

"I would like to ask him about a particularly ambitious person that seems to take an acute interest in me- likely in exchange for something."

"A deal with the devil, huh?" Caitlyn grinned at her.

"Hardly, we're on even footing, as far as monsters go. What we just did is more like a deal with the devil," Celene said through a smirk. She leaned in. "Your turn."

Caitlyn snickered to herself softly, reaching under the table. She retrieved a small leather purse and set it beside the teapot before beginning to rummage through it. "This requires a bit of explaining," Caitlyn said. Stopping her search, Celene couldn't see what she was holding. "I spent my entire career working to fight the thievery and petty crime that plagued Piltover. Several years ago I succeeded, crime rates dropped to near nothing. Through my guidance and personal involvement, we rounded up and imprisoned every criminal within ten miles of the city." Caitlyn brushed her hair out of her eyes. "All but one- a single criminal has eluded my eyes."

"That's why you're here, isn't it? Biding your time in politics until someone who knows comes along."

"Exactly," Caitlyn said, pulling a small clear bag from her purse. She handed it over the table to Celene whom began to examine it. Inside the bag was a slip of letter paper with an ornate C written in deep blue ink. Celene felt herself blink. She handed it back.

"Your walking breakthrough isn't me, I'm sorry, but maybe I can offer some advice," Celene said, crossing her arms.

"Anything," Caitlyn said, staring hard at the slip of paper that had teased her for so many years.

"If you extend your arms and find nothing, what you're searching for is either out of your reach or close to home. Have you fully extended your arms?" Celene said calmly.

"I have not, but I can't just kick down every door in Piltover looking for him," Caitlyn said, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"How do you know he's male?" Celene asked. She was really enjoying herself. It had been a long time since she'd had a conversation like this.

"The handwriting shows tics and habits that come from males in their early twenties, according to mass surveys. I don't have the papers with me," Caitlyn said flatly.

"You're good."

"The best," Caitlyn said with a small smile. "Now it's my turn. They hold Nocturne in a summoning chamber beneath the main institute with the other unstable champions. It's guarded but if I go with you they won't care." the Sheriff finished.

"Shall we, my lady?" Celene stood, assuming a posture that compared to her normal one was unmistakably masculine. She bowed, her hand over her stomach, the other twirling as she leaned in. Caitlyn snickered softly and stood, walking casually around Celene so the Ionian couldn't reach her.

"I met a man at a dance like that once," Caitlyn mused as she began to descend the stairs. Celene followed.

"If you don't mind me asking, was he a gentleman, or did he just want a little private time with the Sheriff of Piltover?" Celene asked, expecting Caitlyn to glare.

"Ahh, a little of both. I think most men are like that," Caitlyn said over the tapping of her boots. Celene shrugged in general agreement.

"Was he a good dancer?" Celene asked, speeding up so the sheriff didn't fall out of sight around the curved wall. Caitlyn smirked over her shoulder before turning her eyes forward.

"That's the funny part. For all the class he displayed trying to impress me, he was a rather abysmal dancer. He kept stepping on my feet, and he didn't know were his hands were supposed to go. The list goes on." Caitlyn rubbed the back of her neck. Celene couldn't help but giggle at how upset she sounded; her tone was as if she had just dropped something she spent hours cooking.

"I've been told I'm an excellent dancer," Celene said. The statement meant nothing, but she wanted to see if she could mess with Caitlyn's body language a little. A few mixed signals could be very amusing if used right.

"Those kinds of little sneaky pokes and prods don't work on me, sir," Caitlyn teased, reaching the door. She pushed it open, readjusting her hat as it bumped on the frame. Celene fit through the arch rather nicely. She watched the woman opened the door directly to her left, revealing a second set of stairs.

"Right this way," she said calmly and began to descend. This flight of stairs was considerably shorter, only spanning a single floor. It curved one hundred and eighty degrees before reaching the bottom. The air was much heavier here than the floor above. Caitlyn passed door after door, her eyes locked on one farther down the hall. After a moment they arrived.

"The guard isn't on his post. Lazy," Caitlyn muttered. She looked at Celene. "I'm not going in there with you," she said flatly. Celene shrugged- it didn't matter to her either way. Nocturne couldn't bother her, but Caitlyn likely didn't have such mental defenses in place and would be helpless. Her thin fingers wrapped around the knob. The metal was warm from the active enchantments that lined the door. She attempted to turn the knob, but the door was locked. Celene took a final look at Caitlyn. The sheriff failed to hide her worry. Celene smiled sideways at her and disappeared in a blue flash.

Caitlyn felt herself frown as she leaned her back against the wall and waited, her mind pondering how to defend against such breaking and entering. She shook her head, deciding to stop her brain from chewing on itself.

The darkness was absolute. The soft blue glow from Celene's eyes seemed to reflect off the blackness as if it were solid. The mental assault was immediate. The Ionian bit her lip, focusing on the source of the mental invasion. As the sifting stemmed, a distorted voice cracked the darkness like an egg.

"You..." the voice seemed to strain. "The one that, through her fearlessness, invalidates my entire existence," Nocturne spoke slowly. The soft clink of chains came from directly ahead of her. Celene had momentary questioned the sanity of the summoners, but Nocturne being restrained seemed to slow the Ionian's heart.

"Been a while, hasn't it? Can't say I'm surprised to see you're here, but last time we talked, you didn't have a body or a name," Celene spoke into the darkness. It was obvious Nocturne could see her, but the flawed nature of her biology by comparison made spotting him in absolute darkness impossible. Celene blinked, accepting that her eyes were useless.

"You seemed to have changed a lot since then. I invaded the dreams of a tyrant, the ruler of Valoran, before any of this petty city-state politics. I made you scream as I pushed you towards insanity. It took all of the informational resources under your rule to stop me," Nocturne wheezed. Celene frowned, remembering how she used to be all those years ago. She rubbed her brooch between her thumb and index finger.

"I have changed, rather recently actually. I'm assuming you've seen how in the little bits of memory sifting you've gotten. That old lust for power and control is gone," Celene said, her tone flattening.

Nocturne laughed, the low rasping sound seeming to fill the room, echoing endlessly. "It's hardly gone, just slumbering, like your kingdom." The clinking of chains filled the room as Nocturne shifted. Celene felt her eye's narrow as he touched a nerve.

"If you know so much about me, can you tell me why I'm here?" Celene asked, leaning her back against the heavy wood of the door, her thin arms folded across her chest. Nocturne was silent. Anyone that didn't know the chamber's use could have easily mistaken it for being empty. Celene felt her lips curling, knowing Nocturne could see the grin over his verbal defeat.

"I want information about a human." Celene answered her own question.

"Why would I give you this?" Nocturne asked slowly through the darkness. The ghostly voice increased in volume as he drifted towards Celene. A clink was heard, and the advance stopped.

"Because everybody wants something; I propose a trade," Celene said. She ran her hand through her raven hair, readjusting the placement of her feet. "Now, what would you like?"

The darkness seemed to shift towards the room's center, retracting as if it were a cloud of smoke being sucked in. The room was hardly well-lit, but in the blue glow, Celene could make out a pair of milky eyes floating level with hers. Heavy chains, thick enough to haul anchors from the depths of the sea, connected themselves to six-inch-thick iron shackles around ghostly wrists. The soft blue of summoner runes could be seen in the darkness, spiraling its way across the floors, ceiling, and walls.

Nocturne narrowed his eyes at Celene, his full form visible as Celene's eyes adjusted to the dim light. "I want… freedom," Nocturne spoke, slower than normal. He turned his head, his white eyes glaring at the wall in defeated, angry, shame. Celene felt a twinge of pity in her chest.

"If it makes you feel better, this is hardly the greatest attempt at sealing something away that I've seen."

Nocturne's eyes snapped to her, he rocketed across the room with a snarl. The chains clanged as they reached their end. The nightmare was less than five feet from Celene. He relaxed, drifting back towards the center of the room as he realized there was no way he could reach her.

"You forget yourself. Do not try to console me like you would a weeping child," Nocturne said poisonously.

"I'm sor-" Celene stopped herself, remembering what Nocturne had just said. "Excuse me. Sadly I cannot simply free you but this is by no means a well done binding. Time is your key to freedom. When the League eventually falters and disbands so will these bindings." Celene explained. Nocturne sighed at her.

"You offer no help," he said flatly. Celene snickered softly, earning herself a glare.

"You're so impatient. Not yet, neither of us are going anywhere. I plan to stay and enjoy the freedom of lifestyle and expression the League gives me as long as it remains. If there is anything I've learned, it's that nothing lasts forever," Celene said, pushing herself back into her feet. "And when it does falter, I'll see you again." The Ionian advanced a step, then another. Nocturne could reach her if he wanted. He narrowed his eyes as she reached him. The two looked at each other for a moment as Celene offered her hand.

"You invalidate me again," Nocturne muttered. His arm visibly twitched. Celene looked at him; she wondered if he knew what would happen should he kill her. She pondered for a moment, unsure if she could even possess the ghostly body. If she could not the next closest was Caitlyn just outside the door. Her thoughts turned to Earth. The guilt sprung up again at the carelessness she showed the body. She wouldn't die if the body was damaged, but Earth would. She was ripped from her thoughts as a black hand wrapped itself around her neck. Her hands shot to the cuffed wrist in surprise as she was pushed off her feet against the stone floor. Her head smacked into the stone, stars flashing across her vision as Nocturne cut off her access to oxygen. She closed her eyes, summoning the will to disappear. She remained, the binding runes that covered the runes beginning to glow a blinding green. A wave of fear washed over her as she realized she was trapped.

Nocturne looked at her- pulling emotion from his featureless face was impossible, but it was clear he was enjoying himself as Celene began to turn a soft shade of blue. Her nails clawed at the blackness that pinned her, the smooth surface offering nothing for them to bite into. She had begun to panic, attempting to pry at Nocturne's fingers. She kicked at him with her feet. Earth flicked to the front of the whirl of panicked thoughts in her head. Celene could remember the solemn expression the girl had given her. That forgiveness, all the time she had spent, would be for nothing. Nocturne began to laugh, hauling her into the air with ease. She hung there, her conciseness fading. The room was turning black, the idea of sleep creeping into her mind as her eyelids began to feel like lead weights. The ghostly laughing muted itself into a dull buzz as her arms stopped responding and fell limp at her sides.

Her feet hit the floor and she crumpled against the stone. She involuntarily took a massive breath, spluttering. Her body felt numb, her limbs unresponsive and heavy against the stone floor. Nocturne had his face less than an inch from hers, attempting to break past her mental defenses. All of the Ionian's willpower was at use to keep him out. She pinned her eyes shut, turning her head away as she began to hyperventilate. The guilt was becoming overpowering as tears worked their way out of the corners of her eyes, her mind afire with what Nocturne would do next. He had begun to laugh again, the sound forced at first, but quickly grew to an earsplitting cackling. Celene gasped, as the nightmare wrapped his hand around her cloak and the front of her shirt. Her mind flicked to the idea of him removing the clothing. She ordered herself to curl up, but her numb limbs couldn't respond. Her limp body was lifted into the air and hurled across the room, making contact with the wooden door with a heavy thud. Celene forced herself against the door as if trying to merge with the wood, putting as much space between herself and Nocturne as she could physically could.

Nocturne was laughing uncontrollably. He pointed, the chains on his wrists chiming with his laughter.

"Not so fearless after all, are we," he said, his fits of cackling beginning to still. Celene's heart was beginning to slow as logic resumed control of her thoughts. Nocturne had an expression that could only be described as joyful as Celene fought to regain control of herself; the attempts to enter her mind had stopped by Nocturne's instruction rather than her own defenses. There as a silence, broken only by Celene's heavy breathing. She rubbed her neck, a bruise already beginning to develop as she pushed herself to her feet, using the door to assist her balance.

She opened her mouth to speak but was struck by a vicious coughing fit. After a moment of uncontrollable spasms and coughs she straightened up. "Do we have a deal?" Celene wheezed with some effort.

Nocturne would have been grinning if he could. "Indeed. Which human do you take interest in?" The nightmare said, hovering limply.

"You're familiar with Swain? He recently became the Grand General of Noxus. His crow has been spying on me for a while now; he seems to have taken an interest in me," Celene said, rubbing her throat. Her voice was returning to its normal pitch.

"He's a good one, lots of little nasty secrets. The man fears much, but death and the loss of progress are his greatest nightmares," Nocturne said, his tone suggesting he was both enjoying the conversation and in a very good mood.

Celene felt herself grin; her born-in need to be nosy was being fed. "Nasty little secrets? Give me an example, something that isn't relevant," Celene said, her hands retreating under her cloak, her head tilting mischievously.

"Hmmm." Nocturne massaged his featureless chin with his hand, the chains clinking as he moved. "Well, politically, he has never played fair. The best example would be ordering his men to kidnap General Du Couteau." Celene whistled approvingly.

Nocturne drew a wheezing, shaky breath. Celene was unsure if he actually needed to breath or if the sound was just for effect. "As for things relevant to you, I do not know. I haven't searched his memories since before your arrival. I suppose the lack of relevant information given is only fair, considering what you provided," Nocturne said. Celene nodded in agreement.

"Do you know about him and his crow?" Celene asked, forming an ear-to-ear grin as she delved deep into the man's life without his knowledge.

"The crow is connected to him somehow. I could feel it during my assault. Perhaps it is a demon with some sort of agreement with Swain, though I am unsure." Nocturne finished. She turned away from Celene, motioning with his arm for her to leave. Celene nodded and examined the room, the inscriptions spiraling around her and Nocturne. She followed them with her eyes. After a moment, her gaze fell on the base that connected the heavy chain on Nocturne's left arm to the floor. She picked another, tracing it from the base outward. The runes lead outwards at an angle, up the wall, around the room once, down the wall again and back to the same base. Celene understood. The binding spell worked through direct contract. When Nocturne had forced her down, she must have been laying across the runes. It also meant when he lifted her, she could have teleported away. The memory made her heart lurch slightly.

Celene shook her head, stepping to her left so that she was in between two lines of runes but touching none. With a pulse of light, she disappeared, appearing in a flash across the hall from Caitlyn. The woman was examining her hat with bored scrutiny, her eyes only lifting in response to the blue flash.

"My god, are you alright?" Caitlyn said with worried curiosity as she crossed the hall. Celene opened her mouth to answer but was stopped as Caitlyn grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at the ceiling. The sheriff leaned in, examining the bruising still in its infancy that lined Celene's neck like a pearl necklace.

"He didn't... do anything else, did he?" Caitlyn asked uneasily, noticing the unevenness of Celene's clothing compared to how it was when she first entered the room. Celene pulled herself loose from the woman's grasp, unpinning her cloak.

"No, he didn't," Celene snapped, swirling the cloak around her shoulders before pinning it again. Caitlyn looked at her questioningly. Celene felt as if she was being interrogated. Caitlyn placed her hands on her hips, frowning at the Ionian in front of her. Celene give the sheriff an annoyed glance.

"Can we go drink the rest of that tea? My throat hurts." Caitlyn smiled at her; the childish insubordination was somewhat cute.

"We can," Caitlyn said, resetting her hat on top of her head and striding for the door. She motioned Celene to follow over her shoulder as she placed her boot on the first stair.

–

Beyal bit his lip, his stomach twisting itself into a knot over what he was about to do. He took a deep breath, his knuckles meeting the door with a thunk. Signs of life could be heard from the beyond the wood. A pause came as Beyal withdrew his hand from the door. He knew the room's owner had heard the single knock. He readjusted the wooden box held under his arm, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Silence came from the room beyond. Beyal knew they were expecting a reply.

He cleared his throat, stemming the tide of nerves and forcing his voice steady before speaking. "Katarina, it's Beyal. Are you busy?" Beyal half-cringed at the sound of his voice, annoyed at the nervousness leaking into his pitch. _With any luck, Katarina wo__n't notice,_ he thought to himself as a lock clicked out of place.

Katarina pulled the door open an inch, peering out with a single green eye to make sure it was in fact Beyal and not some impressionist. Before her door stood Beyal's slightly heavyset form, his hair neater then he normally kept it, his posture forced more upright then was comfortable. Under his arm was a wooden box the size of a large book. He smiled when Katarina fully opened the door. The assassin eyed Beyal Inquisitively, crossing her arms at her chest as she leaned against the door frame.

"What's all of this?" Katarina said, gesturing vaguely in Beyal's direction with her hand. Beyal flicked his eyes towards the end of the hall. Katarina didn't wait for him to answer. Leaning in, she took the box from under the man's arm. Beyal kept his hands on the object, his eyes returning to the assassin with newly established nerves. Katarina shot him a look and he released the box. The assassin kept her eyes on the summoner as she returned to her place against the door frame, box in hand. Katarina lifted the wooden lid and peered in. The inside of the box was lined with twenty-five lumps of expensive-looking milk chocolate. Katarina snapped the lid shut, the sound making the summoner jump. She couldn't help but smile at the formal request for her attention.

Beyal watched the cat jump from the bag, fly down the hall, and up the spiral staircase (earning a pair of confused looks from Caitlyn and Celene), and over the spire's railing into the late morning sun. No turning back now.

"So, uhh, I was wondering if you wanted to get some proper dinner tonight?" Beyal said. His speech was hurried. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. No matter how many times the summoner had asked the question before, it never got any easier. He came to the conclusion that if he did it enough for it to be easy, he would need to reevaluate himself. The hard part, however, was over. Beyal allowed himself to smile at the redhead. The expression came out more red-faced and sheepish then he intended.

Katarina leaned in, the hand not holding the box falling to her hip. "Ha! Really?" She said, causing Beyal to recoil slightly. "You're asking me, Katarina Du Couteau, trained killer, and daughter of a general of the Noxian circle for... a date?" The redhead finished, her fingertips drumming on her hip. Beyal lowered his head.

"I just thought that..." Beyal trailed off, his mind working to assess the emotional damage. A twinge of anger flared up. He locked his eyes on Katarina, pulling his hood from his head and ruffling his hair. His posture eased as he remembered who he was talking to, refusing to be upset. "I thought that you would enjoy it. I'm offering you free food, no need to be a bitch." Beyal said, his voice stable as if the conversation was normal. Katarina narrowed her eyes at him, sending red flags flying in Beyal's head. Her smile was still present however, reassuring Beyal that he wasn't about to die.

Katarina didn't say anything, her hand shot out, grabbing the front of his robes. Beyal's mind flew through the long list of bad things that could happen as Katarina turned, her expression unchanged, and pulled him through her door. She casually tossed the box onto her bedspread and released the summoner.

"Not backing down?" Katarina said, looking at him over her shoulder. Beyal looked at her for a moment, realizing he was being tested.

"Do you remember the last time I've run away from you?" Beyal questioned, his tone solid. Katarina shook her head.

"Exactly. Here, I saw this while I was buying the chocolates." Beyal produced a thin object wrapped in white cloth. He held it out towards the before deciding not to make her walk and approaching. Beyal stopped within arm's reach, handing the object to Katarina. The assassin knew what it was the second the silk touched her fingers. She raised her eyebrow at Beyal.

"When I was a child, no one ever gave me gifts. My father was always telling me that nothing in the world is free. Why do you insist on showering me with presents- the mirror, chocolate, this?" Katarina unwrapped the thin throwing knife from its silky prison.

"Well…" Beyal began as Katarina looked at him impatiently. The assassin was beginning to notice how remarkably tolerant she was of Beyal. "I honestly have no idea how else I can really express that I like you, considering you're Katarina Du Couteau, trained killer, and daughter of General Du Couteau of the Noxian circle. It's not like you're in my league," Beyal said flatly, his confidence reinvigorated. _I must be getting somewhere,_ Beyal thought, _considering I'm still alive_.

Katarina felt the smile creeping its way back as she watched him use more professionalism with her title then she did. "I was never going to say no," the redhead admitted. Beyal sighed in relief. Katarina watched the blood drain from his face at the realization of what he'd just done. She rolled the knife across her knuckles, watching to see what the summoner would do next. The knife seemed to hop from the assassin's knuckles, meeting the floor with a dull clatter. Katarina's smile vanished, her eyes narrowing as she bent down to retrieve it.

"Where did you get this?" Katarina asked, attempting to balance the small weapon across her middle finger. It toppled again.

"The armorer in the city; it was just lying on his counter," Beyal said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, it's not balanced properly," Katarina said, looking hard at the summoner. He looked away from her, instead opting to examine her floor. The smile had wavered but never left. "Thank you anyways," Katarina said, making her voice as nice as she could. She removed the nicked knife from her waist, sliding the new one into place. Katarina made a mental note to replace it later, as it would be useless in combat, as she advanced a step towards the summoner and hugged him.

Beyal, sure he was going to die, timidly returned the hug. He carefully avoided touching any of the assassin's skin, instead placing his hands on the back of her leather chest piece. There was nothing he could do to make the hug less strange as the robe offered no protection from the large number of small, pointed metal objects on Katarina's person, making it much like hugging a cactus. Katarina let go, allowing the seconds to resume ticking by at their normal speed. Beyal sighed, caught completely off guard.

"Uhh, I won't tell anybody," Beyal said, unsure what else to say. He stood, dumbstruck.

Katarina shrugged, the increase in her heartbeat pushed from her mind. "I don't give a fuck, but if you don't mind, I need to get ready," she lied. Beyal didn't hesitate to turn and begin striding from the room. "Beyal," Katarina said flatly. The summoner turned, his mouth still slightly ajar. "Thank you."

"Uhh, anytime," Beyal responded.

"No."

"Well, uhh, I guess I'll meet you on the steps at six?" Beyal said, not waiting for her to answer as his fingers closed around the door knob. Katarina smiled and nodded at him.

"Bye," she felt herself say as the summoner closed the door. Katarina stood completely still, turning over what had just happened in her head. Her heart felt light, dare she admit it she was excited. Her training told her to push the feelings away but she ignored it, indulging herself. She spun on her heel and strode around her bed before thrusting her weight against her bookcase. She slipped out of her window, propping herself on the wooden sill. The action earned a few confused looks from a pair of summoners below her as she inhaled and shunpo'ed to a sill five rooms away from hers.

Cassiopeia jumped in surprise as her view of the garden was suddenly blocked by her knife covered, red headed sister. She lowered the hand she had raised to her face as Katarina stepped into her room with an oddly joyful expression.

"To what do I owe the... intrusion?" The gorgon said, intrigued by the expression.

"You'll never believe what just happened," Katarina said, brushing the hair from her eyes with a grin.

–

"So, why is it that you're going to Demacia? Garen gave you rather clear instructions," Caitlyn said flatly. Celene looked at the seated sheriff, preferring to lean against one of the spire's thin stone pillars rather than sit herself. The Ionian woman sipped her bitter tea before deciding to answer Caitlyn.

She honestly didn't have a defined reason other than that she wanted to, so instead Celene decided to fire a question back at Caitlyn. "What is Garen going to do about it?" asked Celene.

Caitlyn looked at her sternly. "Arrest you," she said, sounding irritated. Celene's willingness to disobey orders and break rules was annoying her. Caitlyn glared at Celene, crossing her arms.

"Pppttttfff." The sound left Celene's thin lips as she dismissively gestured towards Caitlyn. The sheriff huffed, watching Celene finish her tea. "Thank you for the tea; it's a very nice brew," Celene said, attempting to put out the burning bridge.

"You're welcome, but you have no need to be so childish. Rules exist to make lives safer," Caitlyn said, her tone returning the cold snarky pitch that Celene was used to. Celene smiled softly. When she was in Ionia she had often been called childish and unbalanced. She sighed, pushing the memories away, deciding to distract herself. The teacup that had been trapped in her fingers floated its way to the table on a blue strand, earning an investigative look from the sheriff sitting on the other side.

"Just be thankful I don't give a fuck anymore, I was a hell of a lot more troublesome back when I did," Celene said, twirling the strand in her fingers as it retracted from the table. Caitlyn smirked at her.

"Like when you attacked Katarina in the Ivory Ward?" Caitlyn said mischievously. Had the strand not been attached to Celene's fingers, she would have dropped it. She stared blankly at Caitlyn for a moment before re-summoning the ability to speak from the back of her brain.

"How did you know about that..." Celene said slowly. Her tone was now completely serious, as she stared in blank surprise at the smirking sheriff. Caitlyn raised the cup to her lips.

"I've been meaning to ask you something actually." Caitlyn said, avoiding the question. Celene smirked to herself. Caitlyn having the information didn't really matter she thought, quelling her surprise. "Why did you do it in the first place? Why attack her? I can only guess you wanted to possess her." Caitlyn asked, lowering her cup to the table, focusing her attention acutely on Celene.

"I was becoming restless." Celene said, looking at her hands. "I was using the same body for around eighty years, moving from village to village in Ionia to avoid suspicion. I got tired of the lifestyle, so I traveled to the main land and searched. I wanted to act on ambitions of authority; I wanted a privileged lifestyle, a different culture. A lot of different things, really." Celene paused, her smile becoming ghostly. Caitlyn readjusted how she was sitting; the expression was very unnerving. "Katarina eventually caught my attention. I met her in a bar in Bilgewater while traveling. Something about her was fascinating, so I followed her to Noxus and stalked her around for about a month before deciding she was who I was looking for," Celene finished, musing over the memory. The strands sprouted from her fingertips, twisting themselves into a pair of figures. This was becoming a habit, Celene noted, as the figures took each other's hands and danced.

"What happened?" Caitlyn asked, her attention faltering as she watched the show Celene was putting on.

"Well, I failed to possess her, so I left the city- I fit into too many Noxian minorities to hide nearby. I traveled to Piltover and spent around eight years there. I was about to return to Noxus and try again but... the League of Legends began to catch my attention. Even if I possessed her, I couldn't be myself. The League allows me to express who I am, to live, and to feel involved in the world all at the same time." Celene watched the figures speed up, spinning around each other in a fast hand-in-hand march.

"It's clear you still take interest in her, should I fear for her safety?" Caitlyn asked, removing her hat and running her fingers through her hair. Celene's ghostly smile broadened, traveling away from unnerving towards her more conventional grin.

"Not for the moment; I seem to be becoming less ambitious the more I stay here. Perhaps my direct involvement in politics is quenching that thirst. I'm not sure yet, but I don't tend to plan too far ahead. If I do, something always interrupts my arrangements, so I just save myself the headache." Celene pushed her self fully upright, the dance in her palms disrupted by the movement as the figures unwound themselves.

"What is the dancing for?" Caitlyn asked, changing the subject. Celene looked down, leaving the strands in plain view. Her smile devolved into the ghost of a curve on her lips that it was before.

"It's something to remind me that, despite time, some things are still important. Now, I enjoyed our time together, but I'd like to reach Demacia before Garen does," Celene said, turning her back on Caitlyn. The strands seemed to split and increase in number. They waved silently in the air on their own.

Caitlyn snorted. "Good luck. They left this morning and are likely nearly there by now. If you leave now, you might be able to ride there before nightfall," Caitlyn said, sipping her tea. Celene smiled at her over her shoulder. She took a step, gripping the pillar as she stepped onto the railing. She looked down, guessing the drop to be more than one hundred feet. Tendrils protruded from the neckline of her cloak. Caitlyn felt her jaw drop as the blue threads spun, split, and grew themselves into a pair of large, glowing, majestic wings and a long waving tail.

"You didn't actually think I rode here, did you?" Celene asked. She spread her new set of wings, spanning nearly thirty feet. Celene curled them inward, inspecting her makeshift feathers. She gripped the pillar and gave the set a slow test clap. Her cloak billowed behind her from the gust the slow motion created. Caitlyn noted the burning on her fingers. Her teacup was overflowing, dripping hot deep brown liquid onto her hand.

"When I was a child, I used to have dreams about flying circles around Piltover's spires, dipping my fingers in the clouds. You're very lucky," Caitlyn said.

"I'm not lucky; it took me a long time learn how to do this. Technology is quickly closing that gap. However, I still prefer this," Celene said, removing her hand from the column. She tucked the wings neatly along her back, over her cloak, and stepped from the spire. She plummeted from Caitlyn's sight beyond the railing as the sheriff pushed herself hurriedly to her feet. The wings spread and clapped together. The blast of air caused Caitlyn's hat to fly from her head as Celene shot straight upward beyond the spire. A second clap and she was traveling forward. Caitlyn rushed to the railing to see her go. She resembled a giant blue bird of paradise as she cleared the city outside of the Institute of War. Three fast wing beats, and she was a speck against the blue cloudless sky. Caitlyn rubbed the burn on her hands idly, bending down to retrieve her hat. She set herself in her folding chair again, pulling the clear evidence bag from her purse for the second time that day. She stared at it, sinking deep into thought.

–

Lux crossed her legs. Spending the morning in a carriage was beginning to take its toll in numbness and aches. The Crownguard girl hated traveling. Lux had been staring blankly out of window for more than three hours. Turning her brain off seemed to be the only way to stem the insanity of being trapped in a cramped, noisy, bouncing prison with only her massive brother and Vayne for company. The landscape was beginning to look familiar, meaning the challenge would end only to be followed by another, possibly more annoying challenge. The mage decided distracting herself was still the best way to keep her good mood intact as she tried to find faces in landscape.

"Luxanna, are you alright?" Garen's powerful voice ripped Lux from her trance, the volume noticeably lower than his preference. She turned her head. Her brother looked somewhat worried; Lux gave him her first honest smile of the day and nodded. Garen didn't return the smile, but his features returned to their normal stiffness, the worry gone. The meaning was the same.

"Do you know how much f-" Lux began. Garen put his gauntlet-clad finger to his lip, as if to shush her. Looking at Lux sideways, the Might of Demacia pointed to the Nighthunter across from him with his pinky finger. The woman was fast asleep, her feather cape wrapped around her like a blanket. Her ruby-lensed glasses had slide from her short nose and hung limply from her left ear. Lux narrowed her eyes at the woman. Vayne had a grimace plastered across her face as if having a nightmare.

"She battles demons and monsters, even in her dreams," Garen whispered, admiration present in his voice. Lux raised an eyebrow at him. Her distaste for Vayne was hardly justified and she knew it. The mage frowned, turning to her brother to push the subject away.

"What were the contents of the letter you had in your hand this morning?" She asked, refusing to adjust her pitch. Garen shot her a look before deciding trying to control her when it didn't really matter was a waste of energy.

"It contained a response from Jarvan IV about our arrival; he said he informed the family and that he and the king will meet us before we reach the palace." Garen finished, examining the metal links that comprised his gauntlets. Lux suppressed a groan, the presence of the king was stressful enough but her parents might prove to be too much.

"I'm sorry I asked," Lux said distastefully. Garen snorted and grinned, nodding his head.

"I'm sorry I read the letter at all," he said with a stiff faced grin. The carriage jolted, striking a bad spot in the road. Vayne's glasses tumbled from her face, coming to rest between Garen's boots. He tracked them with his eyes as they escaped from their rightful place before hiding in plain sight. Garen attempted to lean forward to retrieve them. His Armour fought him, not allowing him the range of motion required as his fingers fell inches short. He snuck an embarrassed glance at a now smirking Lux and stared at the glasses. Lux could see his mind saying "As the might of Demacia, I shall overcome this challenge," as he more forcefully bent himself forward. Again he fell short. He glanced at Lux again whom was now suppressing giggles and tried a third time with a grunt. Lux couldn't help but laugh as he failed once again, earning herself a defeated glare. Garen looked down at the tacky spectacles again, his features softening. He smiled wide at Lux, barely containing his booming laughter as he pushed the glasses under Vayne's seat with his boot.

"Might of Demacia, the city is in sight, we shall arrive shortly," called a voice from outside.

"Thank you, squire," Garen replied. Lux checked her window. Demacia's gleaming white marble construction was visible through the very edge of her window as the patrol made a beeline for the city. Lux sighed, watching the towering walls slowly approach.

"When do we leave?" She asked. Garen looked at her oddly.

"Tomorrow, unless someone says otherwise. Should we wake her up?" Garen replied, pointing at Vayne. Lux looked at her. The Nighthunter was slowing sliding downward in her seat with each joint of the carriage. Lux smiled, imagining her face if she woke up on the floor.

"Nah," Lux said, crossing her legs.

"You know I'm proud of you, right?" Garen said after a moment of silence.

"What?"

"I'm proud of you. You've faced hardships not meant for people your age and stood strong," Garen replied, glancing at Vayne and leaning in. "The same can't be said for mother and father," he whispered with a mischievous smile. Lux gave him a smile and hugged him.

"Thank you."

–

Celene squinted, scanned the ground below her. The wind whistled past her ears and through her hair. Her cloak billowed behind her, but still managed to trap a decent amount of heat. The monster recalled the goggles she had seen the yordle Corki wearing her second week at the institute. She decided then that that yordle, and by effect, all other yordles were geniuses, as she shielded her eyes from the air. Her scanning eyes finally found what she was looking for, a snaking road a mile bellow. The white cobblestone contrasting the green and yellow of the fields it hid in. She had found her guild line. Her mind began to wander as she gave her makeshift wings a solid clap.

_I wonder if Earth is afraid of heights__,_ the monster thought, looking down. A stab of pity filled her heart at the idea. Celene had always found flying very enjoyable. She grinned, closing her eyes and extending her arms out beside her like wings. She subconsciously angled her wingtips causing her to corkscrew through the air. A joyful expression crept onto her face as she spun in childish glee. Celene began to feel a bit dizzy as her inner ears protested the acrobatics. She halted the twirl, converting it into a rocking motion. Her eyes opened, scanning the ground again. Spotting the road was much easier this time. She traced it with her eyes, watching it twist back and forth for several miles before crossing with another road. As her eyes leveled, the towering building of Demacia could be seen at the edge of her vision. Given her speed, she would arrive with minutes.

Celene stretched the arch in her back, causing her twist upwards and to her right. She adjusted, straightening her course as she returned her eyes to the road. She smiled, spotting a line of specks escorting a slightly larger speck on the white road below. Caitlyn had been right, as she always seemed to be. Celene had been flying only half an hour and would likely only beat Garen to the city by minutes. The specks seemed to disperse as the group reached the crossroads in front of the city gate. Celene turned her eyes from them towards the city as the group ceased being directly below her and was now behind her. She scanned, allowing herself to glide. The monster wouldn't need any more thrust to complete her travels. Stilling her wings, her speed began to dip as she passed over the city walls.

Expensive houses and shops lined the road that lead from the gates to the palace. The cheaper housing not made from marble seemed to be in between roads, as the building began at the roads and worked their way towards alleys. Demacia was very large; it had to be, to house all the citizenry, production, and military that bore its name. All of it got more and more prestigious as Celene continued inwards. The buildings got taller and gleamed brighter with every passing block. Deciding she wasn't intent on being this far in, she twisted the tips of her wings, putting her into a soft bank. She was directly over one of the more poor neighborhoods in the city after a moment of flying, the city's main road was insight and reachable by foot.

She took a deep breath as the wings disassembled themselves mid-flight. Celene spread her arms and legs and plummeted. Her cloak flew behind her, the drag causing it to choke her, but she ignored it. The ground was beginning to rush towards her. She felt a smile split into a grin, widened by the wind as she rocketed towards the rooftops. The city now filled her vision. For Earth's sake, Celene decided that close calls in the name of fun were out of the question. She disappeared. Her feet met the ground with more of a slam then she intended. She straightened up from the stumble, her cloak settling around her shoulders. No matter how many times she did it, Celene was always surprised how easy it was to get into a military-centric city like Demacia. She scanned her surroundings- she was alone, save a very startled-looking cat sitting on a bench beside her. Her sense of direction told her that her goal and source of daily entertainment lay less than a mile to her right, the sounds of chatter bleeding over from the main road. With a smirk, she turned and took off towards the sounds.

**Author's Notes: I guess it had to be a little bit fluffy right? Tell me what you think in R/R Please. Thank you for reading. Edit: When this was first posted i was hurriedly getting my things together for work. Now that I've had the time to properly review it, its been edited it a bit more.**


	8. For King and Country

Chapter 8

For King and Country

The chatter of the bar seemed to intensify with each passing minute. Celene sat cross-legged, eyes fixated on the large front window that overlooked the street outside. New entries avoided the stools on either side of her, though there weren't many seats left. Celene mused, remembering how she had avoided the dark and dimly lit building like a plague before. The excuse "I'm afraid of the dark" was very common from her. The soft glow of her eyes was very noticeable in the bar's dusty air and, despite Demacia's rather famous tolerance the small Ionian, had created a bubble for herself which no one wanted to break.

"Uhh, anythin' I can get you, milady?" The voice was deep and smooth as gravel. The bartender was eyeing her with an odd mixture of curiosity and uneasiness as if she were poisonous.

Her body's susceptibility to alcohol flung itself to the front of her mind. "Just water," Celene answered, not removing her eyes from the window.

The glass was handed across the counter. "So, uhh, where ya from?" Celene pulled her attention from the ducking and raising waves of people outside to shoot the abnormally courageous bartender a smile. He was a stocky man with a mustache and a tattoo of a knight battling a dragon on his exposed left bicep. Celene didn't need to look to see the bar's occupants lean in as he asked questions for them as the chatter dipped below sea level.

Celene lifted the glass from the counter, taking note of the few rebellious floating particles of dirt and dust in the water as she brought it to her lips. It had a hint of a metallic taste. She lowered the glass and sighed softly. "Today? The League of Legends." The man nodded in understanding and went back to his work as her bubble popped. Nervous fear of the unknown turned to casual wonder as the amount of attention fixated on Celene didn't change. Ignoring it, she turned her eyes back to the window allowing the minutes to slide by.

A figure in the crowd caught Celene's eye. He stood a foot taller than everyone else, his stride hindered by heavy blue and white battle armour. People seemed to hurry out of his way as if he'd trample them. Celene was unsure if it was out of respect, intimidation, or if the dauntless vanguard had a reputation for remaining dauntless when charging through crowds. The thought was pushed away with her glass. She slid the bartender a coin from the purse she pulled from a distracted noble before entering the bar and pushed herself to her to her feet.

"The water is free, milady- Demacian law," the bartender said as Celene quickly advanced on the door.

"Well, I like your mustache," Celene replied with a smirk, pushing her way into the street. The monster drew her hood and slid to the front of the crowd. Garen marched pridefully down the center of the street, a broad smile on his face. Lux walked rather then marched; Celene raised an eyebrow at the artificial swing in Lux's hips that cause the decorative silk skirt fixed to her armour to flick side to side. Vayne was giving her a similar look, shading her eyes from the sun with her crossbow hand, her ruby-lensed glasses strangely absent. A man wearing armour similar to Garen's made his way from the crowd. He saluted as the pair began to converse. After a moment the man nodded and took off in a brisk jog towards the palace at the end of the street. Garen watched him go for a moment before saying something Celene couldn't hear to Lux and returning to his march.

The monster followed the trio, being careful to keep some crowd in between herself and Vayne. The Nighthunter was the only one even remotely alert. She turned every so often to look over her shoulder, or scan the crowd lazily. She looked very bored, fiddling with anything at any opportunity just to keep her hands busy. Celene counted four times the Nighthunter had removed and reattached her cape. Celene returned her attention to her actions. The crowd was beginning to thin, the palace offering little to the citizenry as more and more people peeled off the closer the monster got to the towering structure.

Celene decided walking alongside the trio with nothing in between was hardly the best cover and broke off into a thin alleyway. The monster stood for a moment, waiting for the group of League members to break line of sight. She didn't need to wait long as the tail end of Vayne's cape slid from view around the wall. Celene was alone, the walls of marble brick muting the chatter of the streets all around her. The monster sighed in surprised excitement, pretending she was hunting. Her footsteps echoed down the thin alley.

The monster found what she was looking for as her eyes reacquired the massive dome of the Demacian palace. She halted, scanning around her quickly to make sure she was indeed alone- nothing around her but empty benches, unfinished masonry and loose paper, fluttering like birds. She pinned one with a stomp of her foot, causing it to struggle limply in the wind before her fingers finished it off. She pulled the paper eye level.

_Journal of Justice_

_Volume 1, Issue 31: Formare Veneficius Est Formare Fatum- 21 May, 22 CLE_

_Swain Seizes Power in Noxus!_

Celene paused, noting the date of the issue. She had seen this before, her memory told her as she skimmed the text lazily. Her blue eyes examined the illustration of Talon and a very bored-looking Katarina watching Swain's coronation. The sound of approaching footsteps tore her attention from the paper. The monster looked over her shoulder, deciding she didn't want to walk to find another secluded place. If she did have to it was her fault for procrastinating she reasoned, spying the palace over the rooftops. Celene inhaled deeply. The dome was a good distance away. The monster focused for a moment before disappearing. The effect was considerably slower then what she normally did, given the distance as her body unwove itself from the feet up with a soft ring, leveling the paper to flutter back to the cobblestone.

She could see where she had been standing before she could feel her legs again. Her feet clicked against the marble as she stood overlooking the city below. Celene smiled; views like this reminded the monster why she didn't abide by laws and that the world was indeed hers. She looked at her small hands, her smile touching her ears as she made her way downwards towards the large glassless arches that held the dome.

–

Katarina glared at her serpentine sister. Cassiopeia looked back at her blankly before returning to the box she had pulled from her closet. The gorgon sifted through the clothing filled wooden object with purpose, as if searching for gold. She paused, a smile splitting her lips as she wrapped her taloned fingers around an item Katarina couldn't see and hauled it into view. An ankle length black silk dress hung from the woman's fingertips. Katarina narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time she had worn it.

Katarina glared, attempting to light the object on fire. "Cass, is this really necessary? It's just a dinner."

"Yes, it is. Think this still fits?" Cassiopeia said, ignoring her sister's volume. She raised the dress, pressing it against herself. The dress failed to hide what remained of her hips, green scales visible on either side.

Katarina turned away from her, staring out the window. "If it won't fit you, it's not going to fit me," the assassin said flatly, sneaking a look down at her figure.

"Oh, don't be so insecure; it doesn't fit me because I don't have legs," Cassiopeia said, her tone mirroring her sister. She tossed the dress at Katarina's head, the silky object met its mark, ruffling her red hair and earning a grimace. The gorgon smirked, turning back to the box of clothing in as tight of a circle as her serpentine body would allow. "Now try it on." Cassiopeia ordered.

Katarina ripped the dress loose from her hair. She weighed it in her fingers. It was indeed the same dress. The assassin snuck a look over her sister. "This thing got ruined, why do you have it?" Katarina pushed her insecurity away. _S__tupid feelings, doing nothing,_ she thought, raising the dress against herself. It would indeed fit, only the cutlasses on her hips protruded from behind it.

"Well, you wore it so often, and it looked really nice, so I spent several hours washing and patching it up. You'd be amazed how hard it is to get blood out of silk," her sister said, pride hinting in her voice. "It seemed only fair, considering it was the only object of clothing you wore."

"It was the only thing I would wear because father wouldn't let me wear my nightgown outside- this was the closest thing I had," Katarina said, tossing the dress onto the gorgon's bed. Cassiopeia took the action as acceptance. She smiled, turning as tightly as she could.

Her fingers wrapped around a second box on top of the gorgon's dresser. "I really miss having legs sometimes," Cassiopeia mused softly, pushing herself around her bed, box in hand.

"Hard to spread what you don't have, huh?" Katarina said flatly, glaring at the box of makeup approaching her personal space. Cassiopeia stopped. The gorgon looked at her sideways, eyes narrowing to yellow slits.

"Hardly, but it made kicking you in your bitch face a lot easier," she shot back flatly.

"Fuck you." Katarina crossed her arms at her chest.

"I didn't know you swung that way. Should I tell Beyal of your incestuous tendencies?" Cassiopeia returned fire, her posture noticeably more rigid then before.

"Whore." Katarina settled on the simple one word response.

"Bitch."

"Slut."

"Psychopath!" Cassiopeia's volume rose to a yell.

"Pig!" Katarina followed her lead, matching her volume.

"Murderer!"

"Snake!" The scrape of a weapon being drawn.

"Child!" Cassiopeia's clawed fingertips curls aggressively

"Meat!"

"Marrrten!" The old summoner's voice carried cheerfully through the door. The two sisters looked towards the source of the disturbance. The tap of slow footsteps became softer and softer until the pair had to strain to keep track of the summoner as he left. The sisters looked at each other.

"This is stupid. We do this every time we're in each other company," Katarina finally said, glaring at the box in her sister's hands. The cutlass slid out of view into its sheath with a protesting scrape.

"You always start it. You always start everything and then blame it on me when you fuck up." Cassiopeia moved the box under her arm, putting her free hand on her scaly hip.

"How do you figure that?" Katarina asked. She suppressed a smile. The beast in the back of her mind seemed to be content for the moment to bat at the conversation like a ball of yarn. Katarina know Cassiopeia could tell she wasn't serious anymore.

"Like when you stole father's sword and hid it in my room when he went looking for it," Cassiopeia said, drumming her fingertips on her hip impatiently.

"That was you, Cass," the redhead said flatly.

"Fuck you, no it wasn't," Cassiopeia hissed at her sister.

"Just give me the dress," Katarina said. She felt her lips curve upward slightly at the confused look her sister gave her. Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at her sister's good mood. The act was rare and hard to differentiate from her normal hostility.

The gorgon smiled. "Okay, here." she handed Katarina the black silk object, watching with amusement as the assassin pulled her blinds shut and began to remove the numerous sharp metal objects attached to her person. Deciding silence was a bad idea, Cassiopeia scanned her brain for a topic that wouldn't make her sister angry. "So, did Swain tell you about the peace talk he plans to hold, and the festival?" Cassiopeia asked. Katarina paused, her knuckles whitening around the cutlass she had just removed from her hip.

"I was there when he presented the idea to everyone. The Demacians didn't take it too well." Katarina said, sneaking an investigative look behind her at her sister. "I'm not wearing any of that shit." The assassin motioned to the box under Cassiopeia's arm. Cassiopeia looked almost offended. "Did Swain give any dates on when this is happening?"

"Not to me, anyways. He didn't tell you anything while you escorted him?" Cassiopeia asked, watching her sister struggle with the stubborn clasp of her knife belt.

"Nope, though normally Talon does the escorting. Swain said he was off doing something else for him," Katarina answered, her voice strained as she exerted all of her strength on the buckle. She let out a disgruntled snarl and gave up, looking at her sister as if to say "I'll do it later."

"Stop being lazy, Kitty," Cassiopeia said, her hands on her hips.

"Don't tell me what to do," Katarina said flatly.

"Here, let me help you."

"I'm FINE," Katarina said, her voice rising. Cassiopeia was advancing on her, a small smile crossing her lips.

"Just shut up and let someone help you for once in your life," Cassiopeia said smoothly. Katarina glared daggers at her sister as the gorgon closed in on her. Even with Cassiopeia's condition, she still had a few inches on the redhead- something she didn't used to have. "Promise not to stab me?"

"No," Katarina replied flatly.

"Good enough, do people tell you you're pretty?" Cassiopeia tilted her head.

"It's something I often hear when jamming a blade through someone's chest," Katarina said sarcastically, again struggling with her knife belt. The object snapped loose after a few moments of vigorous pulling and twisting.

"Good job, now try it on," Cassiopeia said smiling.

–

Lux pulled her arms over her head. Her armour clinked together as she let out a loud yawn. The trio stood at the foot of the many steps to the Demacian palace. For a place that housed royalty there were very few guards. The king seemed to think that defending the city walls and streets where more important than defending himself and through he wasn't necessarily wrong Lux didn't fancy the idea of the King and his maybe ten guards against an enemy that somehow got inside the walls. Lux sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She snuck a glance at her party. Vayne was impatiently switching around and readjusting her crossbow for what seemed like the billionth time. Garen stood rigidly at attention, his eyes straight forward and hard as stones.

A pair of figures emerged from the palace's massive arch of a door. One stood tall, walking slowly to keep pace with the other hunched-over figure who hobbled carefully down the stairs. Lux again noted the lack of guards- the King was in public without an actual escort. Garen had noticed as well, he shifted uncomfortably. Lux put herself at attention, her military training taking over. She had been in the King's presence before- a few times, in fact. The light-hearted old man seemed an odd ruler for a city-state as active military as Noxus. Lux was sure the introduction of the League of Legends had made the man's job considerably easier. As the pair came into clear view Lux noted the lack of stress lines and the small smile on the man's face. His son Jarvan the Fourth was a different story. From nearly sixty feet away, past the gleam of his golden armour, Lux could see how tired he was. His posture was somewhat unstable. The hand holding his nine foot extendable lance against his shoulder seemed to sag, causing the weapon to wobble slightly with each step. The pair reached the bottom of the stairs. Silence followed as Jarvan eyed Vayne questioningly. The Nighthunter's posture was no different than if she were about to talk to a group of children. Her weight still shifted impatiently.

Jarvan was the first to break the silence. "I did not realize you were welcome here, Vigilante." Jarvan scowled, earning a look from his father next to him.

"According to the League of Legends, I am. Their law is what matters now. I come in your best interests as a sign of good faith," Vayne said flatly.

Jarvan put his free hand on his hip, adjusting his posture. "And that would be?" Jarvan seemed to have plastered his scowl on his face.

Vayne inhaled, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Garen and Lux's vision. "Well, the League's newest edition seems to take an acute interest in being a nuisance. She is just the kind of being I trained myself to combat and protect against," Vayne looked at hard at Jarvan, "whether your laws I say I can or not." The Nighthunter resumed her pacing. "Because of her unique situation, policing and keeping her under control would be rather difficult. I came as a deterrent." Vayne finished.

"What manner of creature is this exactly?" Jarvan asked. He couldn't say with a straight face that he wasn't intrigued.

Vayne stilled her pacing, looking at the King rather than his son. "She's a body snatcher."

"I see." The king spoke up. His expression betrayed that he wasn't one bit worried. "Would you like to follow me inside? The sun is paining my old eyes." Garen and Lux remained silent, expecting the question to be rhetorical and the King to simply turn and begin to walk up the stairs. He remained still, waiting patiently for the trio to answer. Vayne nodded without hesitation. Garen and Lux sank out of attention, looked at each other before nodding as well.

The King placed his foot on the first stair out of more than one hundred and began to ascend. Jarvan had sunken into the group of champions behind him. He leaned in towards Vayne as the group slowly ascended. "Nighthunter, what are this creature's motivations? Should I be worried?" Vayne gave him a look.

"Childishness," Vayne replied simply. Jarvan raised an eyebrow. "And I wouldn't bother worrying. Should she decide to take offensive action, there's very little anyone could do about it. Fretting about is a waste of energy."

"So, to the matter at hand- Garen Crownguard, Might of Demacia, explain your situation in more detail to me if you please," the King said.

Garen nodded. "Your majesty, yesterday morning Swain, the new Grand General of Noxus personally approached me and a large group of other champions at the dining table. The group comprised itself of me, Luxanna, and Vayne, several Ionian champions, as well as the Sheriff of Piltover-" Garen paused, thinking, "-the team of summoners that would lead the Ionian team later that day, and the League's newest edition." Garen drew a breath. "Swain presented himself with civility and put forth the idea of peace talks, trade agreements, and a festival to celebrate the peace between our cities," Garen finished. Jarvan tightened the grip on his lance at the mention of Swain's name.

"Was anyone with him when he did this, Might of Demacia?" The king asked, listening very intently as if missing a single word would cause him to trip and tumble down the stairs.

"Yes, your majesty. Katarina, the Sinister Blade was escorting him," Garen replied.

"Did the Grand General give any dates on when these agreements and events should occur?" The King asked. Garen blinked, surprised the King of Demacia wasn't shooting down the idea of peace talks like he had. Noxian history told Garen that the city-state and its people could not be trusted.

"He did, your majesty. The festival, he said, was to happen within the next two months, and the trade agreements within three. The elder summoner that was present requested that any peace talks take place on Institute grounds, where the peace can be easily enforced. If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Garen said, rubbing his chin.

"You may," the King answered. The group had reached the top of the stairs. Before the advancing from was a grand archway, tall enough to stand a three story house in but thin enough to defend with very few solders. Beyond it was a marble hallway lined with paintings. Magic spheres of light hovered silently in the air above the floor. Lux recognized them as simple cantrips- nothing worth the money she was sure was paid for them. The mage could make them herself, probably with higher quality than what was already present. She deciding silence was the best action however, settling for a soft smirk of self-satisfaction.

Garen spoke after a moment of pause. "My dealings and military experience have told me Noxians- Swain in particular- cannot be trusted. The festival and peace talks are very likely a trap."

"I agree. Swain attacked me out of spite when I first joined the League. The man is a snake," Jarvan said.

The King held his hand up and stopped, silencing both of them. "We shall deal with the festival when it comes- that is the easy part. Our task for the moment should remain the same. We should be protecting our land and my people from any incursions that may happen." The group reached the door to the throne room. The King placed his hand on the double gold covered ornate doors. "If that is all, you may spend as much time as you like within the walls," he spoke as he pushed the doors open.

Garen's mouth opened to speak. He paused as time seemed to stop. The man stared past the King into the room. Lux's jaw hit the floor. She blinked, confused by what she was seeing. Jarvan, the King, and Vayne looked at the two Crownguards questioningly. Garen mouthed something, blinking. The group turned, investigating what the pair was looking at.

"Good day~" The playful pitch echoed softly through the massive throne room. A short Ionian woman sat upside down on the room's massive, gold-lined, red cushioned throne, her feet crossed at the neck rest. Her brown cloak hung upside down from her neck, lying in a pile on the polished white floor. Her hands were behind her head, her short hair hanging on end as she eyed the group with a massive smirk. There was a silence.

"Guards!" Jarvan shouted, pushing the King behind him. The rest of the group followed his lead as weapons were drawn. Vayne pushed herself to the head of the group, the hextech whine of her automatic crossbow bouncing endlessly off the walls. The invader didn't move.

"I was hoping you'd give me an excuse," Vayne said calmly, advancing across the room ahead of the group.

"Come at me!" Celene shouted back, thin eyebrows climbing towards a raven hairline, approaching the floor with a leer.

"ENOUGH!" The King bellowed. "Nighthunter, stand down or I'll have you dispatched!" Vayne paused, her weapon raised, ready to fire, her arm vibrating slightly through combination of the motor powering the weapon and frustration. She snarled impatiently, forcing the weapon to her side and whirling around. The King looked at her respectfully. "Please, stand down," he said much softer than before. He turned his old eyes to Garen. "This is her?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Garen replied through tightly gritted teeth. He could hardly believe his eyes. What was she gaining from this? Why? The questions rushed through his head.

"Stand down," The King ordered again, this time to all of them. "Put away your weapons. There will be no blood on the floor of my throne room." The King stepped from behind Jarvan and began to advance slowly.

"Father!" Jarvan stepped after him. The King raised his hand, looking over his shoulder. His expression was confident and investigative. Jarvan gritted his teeth, obeying his father's order not to follow. The King passed Vayne, giving the Nighthunter a respectful nod. He halted in front of the invader, keeping a good ten feet in between himself and her.

"What is your name?" The King asked calmly.

"Celene; would you like me to move?" The invader replied, her grin disappearing as the burning heat in her chest subsided. She didn't wait for him to answer as she pressed her palm against the marble floor, kicking off from the chair with her feet. She stood in a single-handed hand-stand for a moment before pivoting and returning to her feet as though she had just done a cartwheel. The motion had prompted Vayne to raise her crossbow, still whining, a second time. Celene shot her a smirk and gave the King a low bow.

"Why are your here, Celene?" The King asked, walking around her, keeping ten feet in between them. It was obvious to everyone in the room that the girl scared him.

"I had nothing to do today," Celene said simply, "and I wanted to meet you. The last king I met was Jarvan- the first one, that is. He and I used to play chess." Celene took a few steps backward, putting her next to Vayne. The King raised a white eyebrow at her. Vayne was right; she was somewhat childish. "I didn't come to start any fights." Celene said to clarify, as if reading his mind.

The King lowered himself into his throne, noting it was warm. "You did not think you could just appear in the Demacian palace without promoting a response, did you?" He said.

Celene tilted her head, unsure if he was threatening her. "I knew I would provoke a response, but the response is simply not relevant to me," the monster said. The group tensed. "Besides, this was well worth it. Your scribe's face when I showed up was amazing. On top of that, due to a lack of applying myself to a conversation, I didn't hear any of the interesting things Swain said yesterday." Celene crossed her arms.

The King chuckled to himself before smiling at her. "Well, you missed that end of our conversation. Tell me, Celene, if I were to ask you to leave as a citizen to a citizen and not as a king to a citizen would you do so?" The man in the throne asked, bringing his social skills towards children to bear against the Ionian.

"Indeed. I'll respect your wish, sir." Garen bit the inside of his lip at the improper addressing of the King. "Luxanna, Garen, I'll meet you outside if you'd like to go for a drink after this," Celene said flatly.

She finished with what Lux recognized from school as "goodbye" in Ionian before disappearing in a blue flash. Lux and Garen looked at each other as Jarvan ground his teeth together in stress. Vayne stood frozen in place. The King blinked, following the blue fibers drifting to the floor with his eyes, which dissipated upon contact with the marble.

Celene slide down beside the archways that held the dome of the throne room, deciding eavesdropping was a better way to acquire the information she wanted. _T__hat was fun,_ she thought, chewing on her lip. She slid down the outside of the keystone pillar, out of sight, but not out of earshot. The King and his son below both sighed as the stress released.

"Might of Demacia, Lady of Luminosity, I shall contact you by letter with orders. Please allow me and my son to discuss the details of this new information and get back to you." The King sighed. Celene snuck a look around her narrow hiding place. The man was resting his head on his palm.

"Vigilante." Vayne snapped her eyes to the King. The woman clearly didn't like the term. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted. The King cleared his throat. "Please do not let that creature leave your sight." Celene sighed, her smile rapidly shrinking. Considering how fanatical Vayne was, that order could make her day very annoying. A stab of guilt surprised her.

The monster frowned- she was accomplishing nothing where she was and she knew it. Living forever was hardly an excuse to cause trouble for the people that didn't. Celene turned her eyes away from the throne room. The discussion was of no concern of hers, should the information prove relevant she would find out later without any effort on her part. _Earth m__ust be angry,_ the monster thought. A wave of guilt struck her and she sighed. Why was it so difficult to just not bother others? She was very aware when she left of what she was doing and why. Why was it only coming to the front of her mind now? Celene bit her lip, forcing her logic to take the helm.

"This is silly," the monster muttered to herself, "Earth just wants everyone to be happy and live their lives." The monster decided to try and use her energy more constructively. Luxanna may need some support should they stay with their parents, and Garen deserved an apology. _A middle ground would need to be secured__,_ the monster pondered. Her arrangement with Earth would require it.

Something pulled at the monster's attention, ripping her from her thoughts. She looked up, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to push away the hint of self-loathing creeping into her head. _No need for that,_ she thought to herself, remembering what Earth at told her during their conversation.

_"No need for what?" _Beyal echoed across the mental tether. The man sound very happy, his tone bouncing contently. Celene couldn't help but smile at how happy he sounded. The summoner always struck her as someone who just worked too hard all the time- in fact, she couldn't think of one time she'd seen him were he didn't look tired.

_"Nothing, you just caught me mid-__thought. What is it?"_ Celene looked down, gauging how far she was from the courtyard below.

_"Soooo, I asked her,"_ Beyal said. Celene didn't have to see his face; she could practically feel the excitement through the mental link. She turned her memories over, searching for "her." After a ponderous moment, Katarina came to mind. Celene smiled softly, adjusting her cloak.

_"Well,__ judging by your tone__,__I'__m assuming she said yes__?"_ Celene spied Garen and Lux leaving the palace, Vayne not far behind them.

_"She did__,__ after a few rather terrifying minutes. We're eating tonight."_ Celene nodded in comprehension, debating whether or not she could hit Vayne from this distance with a loose shingle or a rock.

_"When's the marriage?"_ Celene teased, deciding that to throw the rock was a bad idea, as most of her ideas seemed to be lately.

_"O__h__,__ fuck off. I just wanted you to know you give decent advice__,"_ Beyal said, his tone shifting defensively.

_"Don't let my tone fool you, Beyal, I'm just being an asshole. __I'm actually__ very pleased with your success,"_ Celene said honestly. "_Tell me how you and cocoa fingers do__,__ ok__ay__? __I need to leave."_ The party below her had begun scanning. Celene recalled what she had said in the throne room- that she'd be waiting outside. She wasn't technically lying, just out of sight. Beyal thanked her and severed the mental connection. Celene blinked, clearing the odd tugging feeling from her head as she stepped casually from the roof and disappeared.

"Where in the devil is she? Lying snake of a woman," Vayne muttered. Lux and Garen kept their distance from the Nighthunter. Being exposed to her for an extended period was proving somewhat toxic. The siblings snuck uneasy looks at each other, half expecting Vayne to start upturning pebbles.

"Boo." Vayne whirled around with a snarl. The Crownguards turned their heads towards the short Ionian that had appeared between them. Celene smiled at the woman had been drafted into being her entertainment for the rest of the day. The two women stared at each other. Vayne glared, daring the monster to move. Celene shifted her weight to one foot, her face displaying hints of boredom.

"I was ordered not to let you leave my sight," Vayne said flatly, her tone failing to show any of the impatience and anger her face displayed. Celene smiled, the Nighthunter wanted her to take the statement as a challenge and though it was indeed very tempting to just turn and run the monster decided against it. Perhaps there was a way should could enjoy herself without leveling the city through a dramatic chase.

"Garen, Lux." Celene didn't remove her eyes from the Nighthunter, her weapon was still loaded. The monster didn't feel like losing Earth through carelessness. "I'm sorry for running amok through your day." Garen glanced at Vayne uneasily; he wasn't sure who was more stressful to be around. The man nodded. Celene assumed that was him accepting her apology. It was clear neither of the Crownguards wanted to be near the Nighthunter. Celene decided to take that as an opportunity to enjoy herself and help at the same time.

"I'm going to do a bit of window shopping, and then probably go to a bar. I'll see you to back at the Institute." Celene spun on her heel and begun to march towards the Demacian market district, stopping after a few excited steps, spinning around and leaning forward with a massive smile. "Coming?" she said to Vayne. The Nighthunter bit the inside of her lip, realizing what the monster was doing. She remained still. Celene's smile shifted slightly towards the creepier end of her spectrum. "Alright then. Bye." Celene spun again, her cloak whipped around her shoulders as she began to march away. Vayne bit her lip, muttering something neither Lux nor Garen could hear before stomping after her.

The Crownguards watched in worried silence as the pair left their collective sight. Garen was the first to break the silence. "Do you think..." he trailed off. Lux felt herself smile softly.

"I don't think she'll destroy anything. We're leaving tomorrow, right?" Lux asked. She had known the second Swain left the dining table that today was going to be no fun. Garen nodded. "We have to go see mother and father, don't we," Lux asked nobody, her tone drooping. Garen sighed, putting his arm around his sister.

"Yes, Jarvan said he informed them of our coming. It would be rude of us not to see them," he said flatly. He bent down to eye level with Lux, glancing around himself to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "But we can make it short, pretend we're very busy." Lux threw herself into a hug, sinking her face into wrapping of Garen's blue cloak. "I know you're still angry at them, Luxanna, but I'm very proud of you for being so strong." Garen broke the hug and stood. He hid his ponderous expression with his cloak and height. After a moment of silent walking the Might of Demacia decided Celene's motivations weren't that important. Garen smiled, shrouded behind his cloak.

"Luxanna, after we see mother and father, how about we track down the vigilante and our monstrous friend?" Lux twirled around excitedly, her arm above her head, looking upward with her mouth slightly ajar as though being spun by some invisible dancer. She beamed at the brother that had put her in an incredibly good mood. Garen returned the expression to the best of his ability, scar tissue and years of stress hindered him but he attempted anyways. He couldn't help but grin. This was his real sister, without any fabrications. Garen was never much of a philosopher, but Lux had quickly taught him the difference between happiness and real happiness. Whether or not this was the source of Celene's interest in her, he didn't know, but for them moment it didn't matter.

"Say, Luxanna." Garen halted, placing his fists on his hips just in time for a gust of wind to catch his cloak, causing it to billow dramatically. Lux turned, smiling brightly at him.

"Yes?"

"Remember when we we're children, we used to play tag in the estate hallways?" Garen grinned devilishly. He removed his hand from his hip and slapped Lux on the shoulder. Their armour met with a loud clunk as Lux stumbled. Garen turned on his heel and took off with a mix between a run and a march, the fastest, widest range of motion his heavy armour would allow. Lux laughed, briefly considering light binding him. She decided not to cheat and took off after her lumbering brother.

–

The day was progressing quickly, Beyal noted. The sun lazily hovered above the horizon, giving everything a vivid orange tint. Beyal sighed. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't nervous. The summoner smiled, watching the sun drunkenly sink lower in the sky with undisguised excitement. But why, he was unsure. Beyal eventually decided the reasoning didn't matter. It was getting late. The summoner decided he was ready; the adventure had been waiting enough. He focused, attempting to form a mental tether over the noise Wiles and Werhan charitably provided.

"Could you guys shut up for a moment?" Beyal called across the team's quarters. A distant curse was his only reply. The summoner decided ignoring it was the best course of action and attempted form the tether a second time. This time he felt it latch onto the conciseness of his target. The sensation reminded him of getting a bite while fishing, a sudden pull as the line becomes taught. The tether shook; the other party had felt it. Beyal opened his mouth to speak. Speaking verbally wasn't needed for the communication to work properly but he did so anyways to let his team know they should be quiet.

_"What the fuck do you want?"_ the voice seethed across the tether before Beyal could formulate a hello. The pitch was unmistakably Katarina's. Beyal smiled in relief. The tethers had a bad habit of attaching to the minds of people they had attached to previously rather than who you actually wanted. This only happened when Beyal wasn't paying attention, but the paranoid relief over not mistakenly connecting to Celene was present regardless.

"So, where would you like to eat?" Beyal asked out loud, looking over his shoulder at Wiles and Werhan, who were engaged in the world's loudest game of chess. The summoner earned himself a pair of confused looks.

_"Doesn't matter to me."_ Katarina's tone lightened as Beyal identified himself. Her voice bordered on cheerful. Beyal blinked, the tether wavering as his attention was pulled back to the game of chess behind him.

"Check"

"Fuck you."

Beyal shook his head, giving up. "There aren't many places to pick from. I had one in mind, but we could just walk about until one gets your attention."

_"Fine. Meet me on the steps."_ Katarina forcibly broke the tether. Beyal cringed, wishing she didn't know how to do that. The summoner shook his head, pushing himself to his feet. The last thing Beyal wanted was to be late.

"Where are you going?" Werhan called. Beyal paused as he passed the table housing the two summoners and the chess set. Werhan rested his hands on his chin, looking onward grimly at the state of his board. Wiles grinned in victory from the other side of the table, His attention turned elsewhere.

"Out," Beyal said flatly. The summoner didn't want to give away unwanted information and was hoping to sneak by while the two men were distracted, but as Werhan tipped his king over, defeated, and pivoted in his chair Beyal realized that wasn't a possibility.

"Where?" Both men asked in unison, stealing glances at each other as if one of them was copying the other. Beyal turned away from them, heading towards the door.

"With this girl I know," he said, a smile splitting his lips neither man could see as he halted. His fingers trapped the doorknob.

"Who?" They asked in unison again.

Beyal sighed. He was too lazy to think of a lie and didn't feel like being rude and ignoring them. "Kat."

Both men blinked in confusion, looked at each other, then Beyal, and then blinked again. "What?" they said again. There synchronized speaking seemed to be rather natural.

"Katarina," Beyal said flatly, crossing his arms at his chest as the pair began to annoy him.

"Wait, what the fuck?" Summoner Jura called from the connecting room, his words perfectly summarizing the looks Wiles and Werhan both give him. The half-dressed man poked his head past the door that split the two bedrooms. A silence followed. Beyal gave them each a face.

"I'm going to be late," he said, spinning on his heel and retreating through the door into the summoner's hall away from the unwanted attention. He snapped the door shut behind him and took off in a Garen-esque speed march towards the main hall. Beyal ran his situation through his head one more time, trying to think of anything that could possibly go catastrophically wrong. At the top of his mental list was a single word in blood red ink, taking up twice the space of anything else. He crossed Celene off with a hidden sigh of relief. The Ionian scared him- more than Katarina did.

Beyal pushed the door open to the main hall, stealing a glance up towards the Noxian hall. No interceptions occurred. No redheads in sight. He ran over the rest of his list hastily. No problems presented themselves.

The night air swept into the hall, hardly cold, but much chillier than the magically-heated air that filled the rest of the Institute. The hall was devoid of life. It made sense- one had to be somewhat of a shut-in to want to become a summoner anyways. There was for too much pouring over books and grinding hours by trying to perfect a mental state for many normal people.

Beyal had reached his destination. The city below was alive with activity, though most of it was indoors. Shapes could be seen moving in front of windows. Beyal spied the restaurant he had in mind- a wooden building on the western edge of the tiny city. A bit on the expensive side, but that was one of the reasons he picked it.

The summoner scanned the head of the steps. No assassins, he thought, leaning around the massive pillar, checking if she was leaning against one of them. Again, no assassins. It was possible he had misjudged the time and was early. _Maybe she stood you up,_ a voice in the back of his head told him. He narrowed his eyes, ordering his brain to shut up. The night was silent, the only sounds drifted up dully from the town below. Beyal leaned his back against the pillar, looking up at the stars with a bored sigh.

Something cold and metallic pushed itself against Beyal's neck, hard but not hard enough to cause pain. "You're dead," a familiar voice whispered, drifted through the silence.

A wave of fear hit the summoner. He blinked, his eyes involuntary widening. After a moment of raw panic, logic quickly pushed his fight or flight reflex away. The summoner realized if she was actually intent on killing him, what he did no longer mattered. He turned his head. Katarina leaned her back lazily on against the pillar next to him, clad in a black ankle-length dress, her expression a mixture of happiness and a hint of sadism. She lowered her arm. Beyal saw her fingers wrapped around the blade of a throwing knife and realized she had been pressing the rounded metal handle into his neck. He sighed.

"Oh, don't do that, I could kill you just as easily with the dull end," Katarina said, spinning the knife across her knuckles before hiding it in her cleavage. Beyal gave her a relieved smile as he reassured his brain that his life would continue

"It's nice to see you. How long have you been waiting for me?" Beyal asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

"I haven't been." Katarina said, returning the expression. For a moment she looked harmless. "You told your teammates you were going out to eat with me. Why is that?" She asked flatly, twisting and pressing her elbow against the stone pillar, her gloved hand pressed against her hip.

"They were hounding me for information and I didn't feel like be- wait a second, how did you know I did that?" Beyal asked, on his guard again.

"YOU'RE SO BAD AT THIS!" Katarina exclaimed with a grin. She held her hands up in disbelief. "I was maybe a foot behind you the whole way here, if that."

"That's... disconcerting. It's a bit unlike you to play the "I'm a master assassin and you're not, haha" game, isn't it?" Beyal shot back, teasing as much as his self-preservation would allow, pushing the idea of his knife-wielding crush looming behind him without his knowledge out of his mind.

"You're just mad because you lost." Katarina leaned in, daring him to challenge her.

"Just because I lost doesn't mean I'm weak or helpless," Beyal said flatly, seeking to defend himself through the Noxian idealism he knew the woman followed. He snapped his fingers; a ball of blue flame ignited itself at his fingertips. Beyal had always been interested in magic and how it worked. When he was a boy, he dabbled quite a lot with the arcane. Through his magical ability was nothing compared to many champions of the League, he didn't want Katarina to just push him around.

The redhead looked at the shimmering ball of mana-fire stoically before turning her green eyes to the summoner again. "That did you so much good a moment ago," Katarina said flatly the hint of a smile on her lips.

Beyal gave up, leaning his head back against the stone with a defeated sigh. He shook his hand vigorously to put the fire out then pointed towards the restaurant he had in mind. Katarina traced towards the building he was pointing at.

"We're going there," Beyal said, pushing himself from the pillar. He began to descend the steps, looking over his shoulder to see if Katarina was following. He blinked. She was gone. "Come on," Beyal said flatly, knowing she was playing with him.

"What are you talking about?" Katarina said from in front of him. She was sitting on the steps several feet down from him, looking backward over her shoulder. _G__uess she wants to be in front__,_ Beyal thought as the assassin hopped to her feet and began descending towards what promised to be one of the most interesting nights of his life.

**Author's Notes: This Chapter was actually the first that I had thought out, or at least part of it. As a result I actually dont like this chapter very much. It turned out rather nicely I think. Enjoy~!**


	9. Let The Games Begin

**Author's Notes: Thank you guys for all the views and such. If anyone spots any errors please tell me. When you done if you take the time to review that would be nice. I would love to know what everyone thinks!**

Chapter 9

Let the Games Begin

The man's thin gloved fingers wrapped around the star-rod that stood on the roof's edge. The chill from the ocean wind whipped over his hard features, pushing its way under his cowl. The flutter of fabric in the wind and the dull buzz of star-rods were the only sounds in the night air. Talon eyed the city below him like a hawk. Piltover was alight with the electric blue glow from the hundreds of star-rods that lined its streets and rooftops. The man's cold eyes scanned for his target. He spied it after a moment of searching, a tall thin building. It resembled the spire he hung from through smaller and standing up rather than hanging down from Piltover's upper city platform. The city below and above him gleamed in the blue light, its buildings and streets metallic rather than stone and wood. Talon wrinkled his nose. "I can't wait to get out of this disgusting crutch-city and back to Noxus." he muttered.

With his target in sight, Talon mentally reviewed his orders a second time as he idly made his way downward.

–

Talon reached Swain's heavy wooden door. He looked back over his shoulder, eyeing the man marching cheerfully in the other direction. Talon wasn't the type of man that liked to be observed. It didn't matter whether or not he was doing anything, the idea of being seen at all bothered him. Eluding the man wasn't hard, even in the brightly lit, thin hallway. He simply stuck to the shadows, moving only when his attempted observers were distracted- a technique Talon had been practicing his whole life. It was second nature now; hiding in plain sight was something he could do so easily he often did it by mistake. Summoners that insisted on conversation with him would lose track of him should they turn their eyes away if Talon remained still. As such, he had taken to pacing back and forth while in conversation.

The man he had eluded before raised his arms over his head. "HEY!" He said cheerful. Talon narrowed his eyes as the man sung unskillfully. "Draven's the greatest, Draven's the best, the most talented and stylish to have ever…" The man trailed off, presumably running low on creativity. Talon grimaced and slipped inside Swain's door, closing it silently behind him.

"You're late," Swain said flatly from behind his desk. He didn't raise his eyes from the paper he scrawled on with his crow-feather quill. Talon straightened up, leaning his back against the door. He ran over his entrance in his head. Swain shouldn't have noticed him; he made no sound and the man had his back turned. Talon scanned the room, spying the large crow perched facing inward on the Grand General's windowsill. Talon eyed the crow suspiciously. It returned the expression before squawking and turning its head dismissively.

"I didn't realize there was a deadline. I suppose you forgot to place it in the rather vague note your bird gave me." Talon said snarkily; he didn't like being criticized.

"You're right, I didn't," Swain said flatly. He waited just long enough to allow a tiny victorious smirk to appear on Talon's face. "But, normally you are here within five minutes and twenty seven seconds at the latest." Swain poked at the brass Piltover-made pocket watch on his desk. "As of this moment, I will have to say you're normally here within five minutes and thirty eight seconds." Talon glared at Swain as he deliberately wasted his time.

"Don't look like such a Demacian. I have something for you that you'll enjoy doing." Swain turned his attention to the now-pacing Talon. "I need you to leave the Institute, travel to Piltover and steal something. Then you will return here and give it to me without being discovered on the outgoing or return trip." Swain finished.

Talon looked at Swain impassively. "Simple enough. And what of the time in Piltover?"

Swain returned the disinterested look Talon gave him. "Make a bit of a mess. Not much, say two or three people, preferably but not necessarily guards. Remain anonymous while doing so. As for the object in question- Lito's Binding Blade- it's in a museum. It should be labeled and easy to find." Talon nodded in comprehension.

"Grand General, if I may? This task seems better suited to Katarina," Talon said. He began to idly adjust the blade mounted on his right arm, twisting the leather-wrapped weapon so it sat comfortably on his wrist.

"And this is why I command the troops and you do not. You and Katarina are different tools in my toolbox- you are like a screwdriver, she is like a hammer." Swain looked at his guest sideways. "Though I'm sure some imbecile thinks driving in screws with a hammer is a good idea, it doesn't have the effect I'm looking for."

"With respect, Grand General, you are implying Katarina can do tasks that I cannot," Talon said. No longer pacing, he opted to stand motionless in the center of Swain's room.

"I was hoping you would catch that. Katarina probably wouldn't have. Take comfort, Talon," Swain drew a labored breath, "the same mind that you should feel stupid for misunderstanding is guiding your actions. You can do things she cannot. And you will do them today. Before you leave, you will leave this in the weapons place." Swain pulled a slip of paper from under the document he was scowling away at, holding it at arm's length towards his guest. Talon took it without bothering to perform an examination. He spun on his heel and strode quickly from the room.

–

Talon's boots silently met the museum's roof, which was devoid of guards. Talon was unsure whether this was the case due to lack of preparation or if they had all fled inside to escape the freezing air. Their lack of interest was understandable- they weren't expecting a break-in, let alone a violent one. Guards in places like this weren't like guards in a fort or a castle. These were supposed to deter robbers with their presence, not defend the contents of the fort.

Talon darted silently across the roof, reaching the nearest of the museum's multiple skylights. He decided to note this as a suitable escape route. The corridor below was dark; given his skills, anyone pursuing him would easily lose sight of their target as he moved upward and out rather than forward.

Talon slide his gloved fingertips under the skylight's steel mount, hauling it upward just enough for him to slide his skinny body between it and the roof. Talon gritted his teeth in effort, lowing himself into a one arms pull up, his left hand over his head pressing against the glass. He lowered himself downward until he hung at arm's length. The skylight bit his fingertips, causing pain. Talon ignored it, wriggling his fingers loose before letting go and dropping into the corridor below without a sound. He knelt down, quickly and silently unwrapping the blade mounted on his wrist. Talon hastily tossed the long strip of leather aside and went to work unsheathing the five blades that hung from the back of his garb. To process was hurried. Talon didn't feel like expending his one mistake per mission should some guard turn the corner and catch him. He checked the underside of each blade, making sure each of the five spring-loaded pulleys was connected to the blade just above it. Everything was in order. Talon pulled the second line of metal cable from under each blade; using his right hand, he tied a line to a fingertip on his left hand. Talon clenched his fist. The blades behind him responded, shifting impatiently. A throw of his hand would send them forward and the pulleys would draw them back, stabbing and raking at anybody caught in the way. He was ready.

Talon looked down the corridor, then over his shoulder down the other end before darting off forward without a sound. He stopped at the corner, peeking one eye around it. Seeing nobody, he rounded it, keeping low and to the shadows in case he missed anybody. The room was empty aside from numerous displays Talon cared little for. He was looking for a sword, and he saw no swords in this room. He silently moved on, checking each room systematically before moving on to the next one. No swords. Lots of old piles of technology Talon didn't know nor care to know the use for, lots of armor, lots of old versions of Piltover's signature weapon, the firearm. Talon looked one over through the thick glass. He wrinkled his nose. _Weaklings and their crutch weapons,_ he thought to himself before turning away and resuming his search.

Talon poked his head around the corner. The room beyond seemed to be full of object considerably more random then those before it. He scanned the room, his eyes eventually coming to rest on a display on his side of the room. A thin curved sword sat on a pair of display mounts inside a glass box. Talon darted up to it and began examining the glass case. Runes lined the inside of the case, binding it shut. _No magic exists that will make som__ething unbreakable,_ Talon thought, turning his attention instead to the glass. He pressed his hand against it. It wasn't glass as he had thought- some sort of synthetic material he wasn't familiar with. He exhaled against it forcefully, but no fog appeared. Talon rubbed his chin, noting the stubble he would need to remove upon his return. Talon glanced downward. The label read "Binding Blade of Lito" followed by a wall of text he didn't bother reading.

The sound of voices drifted from down the hall into the room. Talon snapped his eyes towards the source of the disturbance. He coached down, sliding behind the display case. A cone of blue light shone into the room, passing over the cases in a quick, lazy scan of the room. Talon smirked to himself- he could have avoided that by simply laying prone on the floor. _Lazy, _he thought, _creating light instead of allowing your eyes to adjust to the dark, creating soulless weapons that require no skill instead of learning to fight._ Footsteps could clearly be heard.

"So why are you working tonight anyways?" A voice drifted across the room as the footsteps increased in volume.

"Eh, the director lettered me and said Mark lettered in today, he has the bumps or some bullshit." Another higher pitched voice drifted across.

Talon smiled to himself, this "Mark" was so lucky and didn't even realize it yet.

"That kinda sucks."

"Eh, not really, I'm getting one and a half for this." The footsteps were clearly inside the room, Talon waited for the circles or light to drift away from his hiding place before peaking around the case, assessing his enemies.

Both were young, younger then he was though one was clearly older than the other. They stood, chatting idly about nothing. There weapons bobbing around in their hands. Both were firearms, weapons Talon knew about, but not in-depth. They came in all shapes and sizes and often did different things. These two were on the long end, coming in at about three feet with a miniature star-rod mounted on each just under the barrel, modified so the light left it in a focused cone. The weapons resembled Caitlyn's, though smaller and without the numerous lenses hers sported. Talon couldn't lift more but didn't need to. Firearms were all used the same way- point and squeeze.

Talon crouched back, coiling like a spring. As with all kills involving two or more targets, the first is always the easiest, with kills after becoming considerably more difficult. For this reason, targeting the most experienced first made the most sense. The older of the pair turned around, propping his weapon lazily on his shoulder so the circle of light was projected on the ceiling as the two left the room and made their way down the corridor. Talon darted after them, as fast as he could without making any sound. They made it several steps before the distance was closed.

"Make a mess," Swain had said, recalled Talon as he drew himself to his full height behind the first of the men. His left hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun. He pulled downwards, using the man's shoulder as a lever to wrench the weapon loose. Talon didn't like it pointing at him, just in case the man squeezed the trigger in surprise. The man spun around with a "Hey!" just in time to meet Talon's wrist mounted blade as it punctured his stomach. Talon grunted with exertion, ripping the blade sideways and out of the man's body, sending a spray of blood against the wall next to him. The man clutched his stomach with a scream as Talon didn't miss a beat, recycling the momentum. He hopped, gaining a foot from the floor. Tucking his arms to his sides, he twirled, the blades that formed his cloak twirling animatedly behind him. He stuck his right arm out. The blade caught the man's neck as he hunched over in pain, the cut clean but not deep enough to completely remove his head, though Talon felt the blade neatly split his spine, so he was very dead.

"Check," Talon muttered stoically, landing neatly on his toes.

The second man whirled around just in time to see his friend wobble, his head hanging from his shoulders by skin alone before toppling forward in a heap. Talon frowned- he should have moved to disable the second before finishing the first. Now it was a fight, not an assassination. That was his one mistake for the night, he concluded. Talon stood challengingly, allowing the second man time to raise his weapon to his shoulder. He pulled the lever at the weapon's side, chambering a round with a metallic clack of the slide snapping forward. Talon would give him a fight- such was the Noxian way. The man centered the weapon's sights on Talon's face. The Noxian could see the man's frightened eyes framed by the metal ring near the weapon's rear, his pupil split in two by the thin metal line at the end of the sights. Talon felt no such fear. He called all his experience, awakening his lightning speed, he melded instantly with the shadows, vanishing but remaining where he was. Talon pulled the cables with his fingertips, causing the pulleys under each small blade to loosen, letting gravity pull them to the floor with five distinct clatters. The man screamed, turning fear into anger as he depressed the trigger on his weapon. Talon crouched as the weapon roared to life, sending a spray of bullets over Talon's head. A flower of orange, a flash of light, and a deafening blast marked each shot. Talon darted to the man's right. The blades remained where they fell, as the pulleys laid lines of cable between themselves and Talon. The guard had lost his target. He hauled the raging weapon to the left in hopes of hitting what he couldn't see. Failing to hit anything, he pulled it back to his right. Glass shattered in the room beyond, drowned out by the screaming man and the booming rifle. Talon drew himself up to his full height, his back pressing against the guard's. The weapon expelled its final round and clicked hollowly. The corridor was filled with thick smoke.

Talon looped the cables in his left hand over the man's head and across his shoulder before standing motionless. It's not a fight if someone doesn't know they've lost.

"Checkmate." Talon muttered, pausing; the man's life would end with a clench of his fist. The terrified guard bit his lip, tracing the cables with his eyes. He reached their razor-sharp silver tips and let out a tiny whimper as his chest tightened. Talon didn't need to see what the man was doing anymore. The fight was over. He pulled the cables clenched in his left hand. The only sound was the metallic zip of the cables retracting with lightning speed, carrying the blades with them. A brief but continuous line of sparks flew across the hall as the center cable ripped its way across the barrel of the man's gun. The blades met him. There was a yelp of pain that morphed into a gurgle as the man slumped against Talon's back. Talon began to adjust the blade on his wrist, taking a step forward. The dying guard fell to the ground as his support was removed, the front of his body torn to shreds. He blinked at the ceiling, wide eyed.

Talon looked beyond the scene. Firearms, as lazy and skill-less as they were, had raw power, something to behold. The first half of the corridor and a good piece of the room beyond was ruined, riddled with holes. Most of the display cases were shattered, including the one Talon needed access to. Talon stepped over the guard, kicking his weapons away idly as he walked down the hall, no longer concerned with stealth- the gunshots had dispatched with the need for it, as the authorities were likely on their way. He marched straight up to the sword that Swain had asked for. Talon wrapped his fingers around the weapon, removing it carelessly from its home; he reached into his garb with his left hand, pulling the slip of paper Swain had handed him into the moon light. A large, ornate letter C was the only thing on the slip. Talon flicked it into the shattered display case where the sword had been before tucking the weapon backwards against his arm and running towards the skylight he had entered from.

–

Celene could feel her consciousness begin to level as the blissful dream began to slip away- the arms holding her became cold and then vanished. Sounds her brain was unable to process nor remember could be heard, people talking, something beating repeatedly against something else. A throbbing pain made itself at home in her head. The Ionian let out a groan. The voice stopped, but the beating continued. She shifted, attempting to fall back asleep and resume the dream still fresh in her mind. Celene felt cold as the pain in her head pushed her towards waking. The world's sounds became recognizable- the beating was the pounding of hooves and the voice belonged to Lux.

"Shh. Heavy sleeper, huh~." Lux muttered, her tone inflected upwards. She clearly thought Celene was being adorable. Celene gave up, forcing her eyes open. She instantly regretted it and snapped them shut with another groan as the bright sunlight assaulted her. The monster rolled onto her back and stretched, her legs extended across someone's lap. She opened her eyes. A thin silver object was less than an inch from her face. Celene looked at it cross eyed, blinking, attempting to focus. She followed it upward. Behind it was a very uncomfortable looking Nighthunter, her face adorned with a vivid scowl.

Celene shifted, noting the thick pair of wrist irons that bound her hands in front of her body with mild annoyance. Her head was making thinking difficult. She gave up, looking at Vayne with the most flirtatious expression her massive hangover would permit. "Morning, baby~." Celene teased, crossing her legs on Vayne's lap.

"It's afternoon," Vayne corrected her flatly. Celene blinked. The monster smirked to herself. She turned her attention to the wrist irons. After a moment of examination, she found they bore no runes of any kind. She could simply teleport out of them.

Lux broke the silence. "You sleep more than a housecat." Celene looked at her, unsure if she was being complimented.

"I remember ordering a tankard of Graggy Ice and that's it." Celene said, pushing her hands across her face to remove the hair from her eyes. Vayne forcibly shoved the Ionians legs off her lap, Celene glanced at her as Vayne deprived her feet of free body heat and sat up. "Did I do anything too interesting?" Celene finished.

"You attempted to start a romantic relationship with Garen," Lux said as flatly as she could. Garen put his face in his gauntlets, embarrassed. Lux's smile threatened to split her face in two. She bit her lip to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles. Celene couldn't control herself, bursting into a fit of cackling laughter. Vayne narrowed her eyes dangerously. Celene covered her mouth with her hands, forcing the cackling back.

The monster pushed the tears from her eyes with her arm. "And how did that go over?" Celene asked, biting her lip like Lux was. It worked; Lux had plenty of practice, the monster guessed.

"Well…" Lux said cheerfully, leaning in, her hair shading her face as she passed the stream of light entering through the window. Her smile shifted toward the creepy end of the Demacian's spectrum. "I struck you over the head with a bar stool~. Don't touch my brother," Lux whispered with a devilish smile, showing off all thirty two of her perfect white teeth.

"I can feel that." Celene rubbed her head, ruffling her hair. Lux leaned out, putting her hands on her knees and bouncing childishly in her seat. Celene turned her eyes to the red-faced Garen. The man was staring hard at nothing, attempting and failing to hide his face behind his cloak and look as small as possible. "You don't deem me a suitable mate for your brother?"

"No, sir," Lux said with a smile.

"Were your parents there?"

"No."

"Dammit. You know, according to Blitzcrank's Fleshbag Matching Service thing, Garen and Katarina are suitable matches," Celene pointed out, remembering what she had read in the Journal of Justice while eating with Caitlyn and Alistar about a week ago.

"And?" Lux asked, knowing Celene was teasing her. The mage smiled at Celene as if to say "hit me with your best shot." Garen shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you deem her a suitable mate for Garen?"

"NO WAY!" Lux screamed, putting her hands on her hips. Celene put her cuffed hand to her chin with a thoughtful expression and a massive grin. Her other hand lay off to the side, limply bound by the wrist irons.

"What about Vayne?" Celene asked. Vayne glared at the monster, wrinkling her nose.

"What _about _Vayne?" Lux crossed her arms at her chest.

"Do you think she is suitable?"

"More so than you," Vayne said poisonously. Garen, Lux and Celene all stared at her blankly. Vayne blinked, realizing what she had just said. "Oh please. Don't be ridiculous. I have finer tastes," Vayne said smugly, crossing her arms and leaning back. Garen looked somewhat hurt. Celene grinned, smelling blood.

"Elaborate," the monster said flatly, her tone not matching her expression.

"No."

"If you don't, I'll have to assume a secret interest in Garen."

"That's fine, assuming is hardly the most annoying thing you do," Vayne said dismissively. She began to fiddle with her crossbow. Celene smirked.

"What about me and Vayne?" something hard met the side of Celene's head. The monster yelped, snapping her head towards the source of pain. An investigative glance revealed it to be Vayne's foot. An awkward silence followed.

"Garen Crownguard, Luxanna Crownguard, we've reached the Institute of War," called the man above. As if on cue, the carriage slowed and finally halted. Celene snuck a glance out the window. The Institute's familiar marble steps greeted her eyes. The door was pulled open. A short man with dirty blonde hair sporting a Demacian dress uniform smiled and bowed before stepping aside.

"My my, I feel like a princess." Celene said to nobody. She felt somewhat flattered. The short man nodded and smiled at her words. Celene opened her mouth to compliment him. Vayne's fingers pinched down on her ear, causing the Ionian to blink in surprise and yelp as the Nighthunter hauled her from the carriage.

"We're going to see the High Councilor, monster, so you can answer for the crimes you committed in Demacia," Vayne spat, pulling Celene to her feet. Celene looked at her sideways before being yanked another few feet.

"You try too hard, Vayne," Celene spat back, her temper flaring. The monster wrestled her anger back, replacing gritted teeth with a small smirk. "Was it you that placed me in these or was it Luxanna?" She asked, shaking the wrist irons.

"Luxanna," Vayne said flatly, giving Celene a solid tug. The monster shot her a look, raising a thin eyebrow before disappearing in a flash of blue light. The wrist irons clattered to the ground and down the steps. Vayne whirled around, glaring hard at Luxanna for the oversight. Lux and Garen looked at each other. They both shrugged before beginning the accent.

Celene appeared rather unexpectedly at the top of the stairs, earning a few startled yelps. She ignored them, stealing a glance down the stairs at Vayne. Lux and the Nighthunter were having what looked like a rather animated argument. After a moment the Nighthunter threw her arms up in frustration. Celene turned away, quickly losing interest. The idea of food lingered in the back of her mind and she began to wonder if Caitlyn and Alistar were eating. She set off, pushing her way past summoners and people from the city below into the institute. The halls were abnormally crowded and alive with activity. Something was happening that Celene wasn't aware of- the summoners had an annoying habit of not telling champions anything until the last possible minute. The monster was unsure if this came from laziness or not.

A robed figure stuck out of the crowd, his light gray robes contrasting with the pillar. Marten stood, rather bored looking, leaning his back against a column. His old eyes sat firmly locked on a small door on the left side of the hall. Celene recognized it. It was the exit to the reflection Chamber. Someone new was here. A smile split the monsters lips. Now that she thought of it. The only times she'd seen the institute this alive with activity was when she first arrived and when Nami, the Tidecaller was introduced. Celene frowned, having never been given the chance to meet the mermaid. From what Beyal had said, the Tidecaller was anti-social and even uncomfortable around humans, so she stayed in her room.

The knob to the reflection chamber jiggled, everyone noticed, the activity stilled and a small ring formed. Marten straightened up hurriedly, evening out his hood before putting his sleeves together and looking down, making seeing the man's face impossible. Celene smirked at him, losing sight of him shortly after as a ring of considerably taller summoners formed around him and the door. Celene hopped childishly, attempting to see over. The action earned a few snickers. The monster bit her lip, considering teleporting to the front of the ring. A massive hand pressed itself under her bottom; the monster looked down as she was scooped into the large purple palm.

"That's a little unfair, don't you think?" Alistar said from behind her, lifting the monster to his eye level. Celene stood in his palm shakily, took a step and grabbed his right horn, pulling herself into a sitting position on his large purple shoulder. The monster smiled- this was the largest living chair she had ever had. The knob jiggled again as summoners stole glances at each other. The new champion seemed unable to open a door. It was possible the new champion was a yordle, but even the short ones didn't have this much trouble. Celene had personally witnessed Teemo stand on his toes to reach a doorknob with considerable success.

Marten stole a glance at the snickering crowd that was forming. The old summoner turned the ring, his eyes flicking to Celene and Alistar. "Everyone shut up. This is a very sensitive moment. Celene, no chaos from you, understand?" Marten muttered loudly. Alistar raised his hand to Celene forehead, saluting for her with a wide smile. Marten nodded, turned quickly and wrapped his thin fingers around the doorknob. With a swift motion the door flew open. A tall woman with flowing pink hair stood in the doorway with a frustrated look on her face. She sported a pair of goggles similar to Ezreal's, a common Piltover fashion, along with tight clothing, a bit of armor mixed in on her shoulders and chest. Most noticeable was the pair of massive hextech gauntlets on her hands. Alistar and Celene stole amused glances at each other as the reason for her difficulty opening doors was explained.

Marten broke the silence. "Champion Vi, I am Elder Summoner Marten." Marten paused, inhaling. Vi shifted her gauntlets impatiently to her hips. "I have been tasked with familiarizing you with our institute as well as the rules of conduct you must follow as part of the League of Legends." The crowd was beginning to dissipate as Marten finished- everyone knew this part. Marten instantly dropped his act. Celene eyed Vi as Alistar turned to leave. The pink-haired girl caught her gaze, staring back as Celene winked and turned away.

"Want to get some food? It's an excuse to keep an eye on her," Alistar said, shifting his head, making Celene lose her balance. She clung to Alistar's great horn to avoid falling to the floor. She smiled, thinking the same thing.

"You know me pretty well, my bovine friend," Celene answered, feeling a tad flattered. Alistar smiled, ducking through the door to the dining hall.

–

Vi raised her eyebrow at the elderly summoner across from her. She had never seen someone so old eat so quickly in her whole life. The only possible excuse was that he was in a hurry, but in a hurry for what? Vi didn't like being left in the dark.

"Hey, gramps," Vi slurred, food shifting in her mouth as she spoke. "What's the big hurry?"

Marten looked at her sideways and swallowed. "Remember my mentioning the practice matches?"

Vi rolled her eyes. "Yes?" Marten smirked.

"Would you prefer them today or tomorrow?" Marten asked levelly. "Caitlyn mentioned you like to fight, so I'm presenting you with the choice."

"I don't care, the sooner I get to hit things, the better," Vi exclaimed, slamming her gauntleted fist into her palm with a metallic clap.

"Excellent! I always did think it was stupid that we had to prepare for the matches a day early but can't ask the champions if they would like to fight as soon as they arrive." Marten clapped his hands together.

"Gramps, you _just_asked me," Vi said flatly, pointing at Marten, her elbows resting on the table.

Marten leaned in, his face mischievous. "Oops."

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go arrange things. If I remember correctly, we have an interesting pool for your Summoner's Rift match." Marten pushed himself to his feet, bowed and began to hobble away. Vi watched him leave. She panned her head around the room, scanning for faces she recognized. She spotted the large bull from before. At his table sat a massive heap of food, a small cloaked Ionian woman who was staring at her, and another taller Ionian who was also staring, wearing a trimmed kimono with nine waving fluffy white tails sneaking their way out from under the short skirt. Vi narrowed her eyes, pushing herself roughly to her feet. She didn't like being stared at. She gritted her teeth behind her lips as she stomped her way towards the table. The bull went back to his food as Vi reached the table.

Crash! Vi slammed her hextech hands against the table, tipping it forward, lifting it several feet off the ground. The hall silenced itself instantly as everyone stared. There was a pause. Vi eyed everyone at the table separately. The bull looked away, not wanting to be involved- that was fine, he wasn't the one staring. The taller of the two Ionians recoiled slightly from the sudden impact and now looked slightly uncomfortable. The shorter Ionian, the one that had winked at her- her expression remained the same. She looked at Vi, her eyes soft, a small smirk on her lips. Vi leaned in, noting the Ionian smelled faintly of apples. Her expression didn't change as the pink-haired girl moved to within an inch of her face.

"What the fuck are you staring at, bitch?" Vi snarled.

"You," she said flatly.

Vi bit her lip, her mechanical knuckles audibly tensing against the table. "Do you have a problem with me?" Vi growled, her tone lowering.

"If I did, I would be doing something like what you're doing right now. I am, however, somewhat envious of your breasts," the Ionian said flatly. Vi blinked, cocking her head. Ahri put her hand over her mouth, suppressing a giggle.

"So I see you've met our local eternal pain in the ass." A familiar voice laden with a thick Piltover accent met Vi's ears. Caitlyn pulled a chair from the table. Celene eyed the sheriff, noting the rifle slung over her back. "Have a seat, Fisticuffs," Caitlyn said cheerfully. She grabbed a second chair, slammed it less then carefully against the back of Vi's legs. Vi shot a glare at Celene, who returned with a widening of her smile.

Caitlyn leaned across the table, eyeing Celene. "How was your trip to Demacia?"

"Amusing," Celene replied, mirroring Caitlyn's tone. The sheriff turned her eyes to the pink-haired newcomer.

"The summoners astound me sometimes with their speed," Caitlyn said, slapping a file full of papers on the table. "This is your file and more importantly the team compositions for your practice matches." Caitlyn pinched one of the papers housed inside the file, nimbly drawing it out and laying it on top of the file. Everyone learned in.

* * *

_Form for balance and practice matches for: Vi_

_Dated 22 CLE, November 5__th_

_Signed-Elder Summoner Marten Damion Nilfliy of Demacia._

_Balancing and review of abilities match for: Vi_

_Arena: Proving Grounds._

_Champions involved:_

_Vi, -title not available-_

_Position: N/A_

_Pilot: Elder Summoner Marten Damion Nilfliy of Demacia assisting._

_Katarina, the Sinister Blade_

_Position: N/A_

_Pilot: High Summoner Beyal Jyamison Sohrten of Noxus Assisting: Champion Requested._

_Results to be reviewed by assisting summoners and the high seating of balance at the Institute of War._

* * *

_Familiarization and review of team composition viability and balance for: Vi_

_Arena: Summoner's Rift_

_Champions involved Purple team:_

* * *

_Fiora, the Grand Duelist._

_Position: Jungler_

_Pilot: Pending_

_Syndra, the Dark Sovereign_

_Position: Middle Lane_

_Pilot: Senior Summoner Marcus Tidemen Victory of Demacia assisting._

_Vi, -title not available-_

_Position: Top Lane_

_Pilot: Elder Summoner Marten Damion Nilfliy of Demacia assisting._

_Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover_

_Position: Bottom Lane, Offensive_

_Pilot: Pending_

_Luxanna "Lux", the Lady of Luminosity_

_Position: Bottom Lane, Support_

_Pilot: Pending: Summoner Mathew Scott Edrith of Piltover: Champion Requested._

_Champions Involved Blue Team:_

* * *

_Irelia, the Will of the Blades_

_Position: Jungler_

_Pilot: Pending_

_Celene, Eternity's Wings_

_Position: Middle Lane_

_Pilot: High Summoner Beyal Jyamison Sohrten of Noxus_

_Riven, the Exile_

_Position: Top Lane_

_Pilot: Summoner Kathrine Rosalie Phalanx of Demacia: Champion Requested._

_Graves, the Outlaw_

_Position: Bottom Lane, Offensive_

_Pilot: Pending_

_Nami, the Tidecaller_

_Position: Bottom Lane, Support_

_Pilot: Pending_

_Distribute copies for champion review. Thank you for assisting the League of Legends._

_~Peace At Any Cost._

* * *

"Oh, I get to meet the mermaid," Celene said, excitement leaking into her tone. Vi raised an eyebrow at her.

"Cupcake." Vi slapped Caitlyn on the shoulder, slamming the Sheriff into the table and knocking her hat away. Caitlyn yelped in pain. Vi blinked, ignorant of the damage she'd done. Ahri winced. Her ears twitched in worry.

"Yes, Vi?" Caitlyn strained, reaching for her hat. Alistar pushed the hat to Caitlyn's hand with his thumb, leaning forward in worry.

"Would you use your detective skills and point out the people on this list?" Vi asked, pulling the sheriff upright as careful as she could. The action was still rather vigorous. Celene raised her eyebrows. The scene before her made her imagine Blitzcrank attempting to paint, though she was unsure why.

Caitlyn glared at Vi. Raising her arm, she pointed at Celene's nose, causing her eyes to cross. "That is Celene, Eternity's Wings," Caitlyn said flatly, pointing to Celene's name on the form with her other hand. Vi glared at the Ionian across the table. Celene returned fire with the look a lion would give a gazelle.

Caitlyn inhaled deeply, rubbing the now very obvious red mark on her left shoulder. She pointed with her right hand towards the door to the dining hall. "That is Luxanna." Lux looked in the table's direction. Caitlyn motioned for her to come over. Lux looked over her shoulder at her brother before striding over to the table housing the group, giving Vi a look of non-recognition before pulling a chair up in between Alistar and Celene.

"Yes?"

"Luxanna, are you aware you're involved in a match today?" Caitlyn said. Lux's smile dropped off and hit the floor with a thump.

"What?! But… I just got back!" Lux exclaimed, pulling her hair, looking worried rather than angry.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you're supporting," Caitlyn said, removing her hat in sincerity.

"NOOO!" Lux pulled her hair taut, looking more upset. Celene put her hand on the girls shoulder.

"And I'm on the other team," Celene added, mirroring Caitlyn's comforting tone. Lux slammed her head into the table causing dishes to jump an inch or so into the air. The girl stared hard at the wood.

"Fuck my life…" Lux muttered. Ahri bit her lip, leaning in, laying her front on the table before reaching across and poking the top of Lux's head.

"Luxanna, your match isn't for a while. I know a sauna in the city below. I could take you there~." Ahri coiled some of Lux's hair around her finger. "Just the two of us~." Lux looked up, raising an eyebrow at the fox across from her.

"Ahri, I have lost count of how many times you've tried and failed to get in my pants. There are SOOOOO many people here that would take you up on that, why don't you bother them?" Lux said flatly, pulling her hair from Ahri's fingers.

"I enjoy a challenge~." Ahri said flirtatiously, electing a groan from the Demacian. The fox shrugged, flicking one of her tails across Lux's face. Lux glared, pulling the stray blonde hairs out of her eyes.

"Guys, Marten just… did that mental connection thing with me." Vi spoke up. Celene had forgotten she was even sitting there. "He says he's summoning me," Vi stated. A ring of blue light appeared around her feet. The girl jumped to her feet, raising her fists to her sides, on guard. The runes wrote themselves on the floor, and in a flash of blue light, Vi was gone. The orb in the center of the room flickered to life, showing a wide angle shot of the Proving Grounds.

"This should be good." Caitlyn said, propping her feet up on the table. Celene, Lux and Alistar twisted there chairs to face the orb.

Ahri raised her wrist to her face and began running her tongue over it repeatedly. "She's cute," Ahri said between licks. "I wonder what she's into." Lux rolled her eyes.

"Fisting," Alistar said flatly. The table exploded with laughter. Lux blinked, not understanding the joke. Caitlyn nearly fell backwards out of her chair. She covered her mouth. Alistar just closed his black eyes and shrugged, a smile crossing his lips.

–

Beyal sighed. "Are you ready, Katarina?" Katarina nodded excitedly. Beyal smiled at her, placing his hands on either side of the glowing blue orb that hovered in front of him. The redhead popped her neck, rolling her shoulders. She hopped a few times, loosening her joints.

"What's the plan," Katarina asked, checking all of her throwing knives.

"No plan. Jump in, stab her 'til she stops moving, come home," Beyal said. He checked the orb- no problems on his end.

"While you stare at my ass the whole time like some kind of man-whore?" Katarina said flatly, pointing at Beyal with one of her cutlasses.

"Well…" Beyal said, smiling brightly at her. The world turned black. Katarina found herself floating in limbo. She looked around, spotting nothing.

"Know anything about who I'm fighting?" Katarina said out loud in the blackness. Her voice felt muted. The assassin crossed her arms; the world was beginning to rush back towards her. The ground slammed into the redhead's feet. A wall of air buffeted Katarina as she reappeared. Thunder crackled off in the distance. Storm clouds sat ominously several miles to the west. A bolt of lightning cracked to the top of a tree. Katarina blinked, counting down from the flash. The thunder rolled over her again. The assassin turned to face the lane, dropping the fourteen about to roll off her tongue.

"So you don't know anything about who I'm fighting?" Katarina asked again. She pulled her arm over her head, causing her back to pop satisfyingly.

"_Well I know she's from Piltover and that's about it- sorry you're kind of in the dark,"_ Beyal called over then mental tether as Katarina took off past the nexus.

"So she's probably just some crutch toting a gun," Katarina said flatly. The chill air wafted over her. The assassin suppressed a shiver. _Strong,_ she thought to herself, carefully not allowing her internal words of encouragement to leak through the tether. The final turret was in sight. Katarina felt her heart begin to beat faster. Whether it was from running or excitement, she wasn't sure.

The assassin slowed to a halt in front of her final tower. Her enemy was nowhere to be seen. Katarina stepped impatiently over the line of runes that marked safety and strode into the center of the lane.

"Minions have spawned!" The announcer boomed. Katarina mimicked the announcer, tilting her head to the side. The assassin looked down, kicking her left boot against the ground. Her cleats left thin white scratches against the cobblestone. A line of figures approached from the enemy side of the lane, catching the assassin's eye. Katarina looked up through her hair, spotting her enemy- a pink-haired woman, just now strolling past her turret. Her lips split into a half grin at the sight of Katarina. She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, shifting her weight rapidly from her toes to the balls of her feet and back.

She tilted her head to her left, raising her chin as if speaking to someone standing behind her. "So I just break this little prickly pear over my knee and that's all?" She asked her summoner out loud, keeping her eyes fixed on the redheaded Noxian. Katarina said nothing.

"_Go on, Kat. I trust you, just flow,"_ Beyal said over the tether. He sounded nervous, Katarina thought to herself. The steady thump of her heart broke its pattern, speeding up drastically in response to the impending doom. Katarina exhaled loudly, allowing her eyes to close for a split moment. The assassin converted what little stress she had accumulated from her very relaxing day into energy. Her eyes drifted open- she suddenly felt very awake.

"_I know,"_ Katarina thought calmly. She braced herself for the wave of adrenaline she knew was coming.

Vi slammed her fist into her palm with a thunk that echoed past the raised platform into the early afternoon's chill air. "Alright then, fire-crotch, your family won't recognize you after I'm done." Vi advanced a step, kicking one of her minions out of the way.

Katarina remained still; in her experience, it was wisest to let the brute move first. Vi gritted her teeth, leaning forward and breaking into a bee-line sprint for Katarina, her gauntleted fist cocked back towards her face. The wave of adrenaline Katarina had expected hit her. The hairs on her arms and neck prickled as a shiver washed over her body. She was flooded with energy, her pupils dilated as her senses overclocked themselves. She had been waiting for it- without it, she was sluggish and predictable. A smile snuck its way onto her face as her hands fell to the cutlasses on her hips. Time seemed to slow as Vi's taller form came within reach, casting a shadow over the assassin as the heavy hextech fist sped towards its mark. Katarina's feet moved without instruction. She reflexively sank into stance, shifting her center of gravity downward and leaning backward. The gauntlet sailed cleanly in front of her face, expelling steam as it passed with a vivid hiss. Vi stepped forward, passing the assassin to keep her balance. They turned to face each other as Katarina returned to an upright stance.

Vi snarled and swung again, this time aiming low. Katarina drew the cutlasses, pressing the blade against the metal fist aimed from her stomach she rolled nimbly around it. Her left cutlass spun in her fingers. She swung for Vi's head. Vi ducked with a grunt, the cutlass taking a thin lock of hair with it as it passed by her neck with a swish. She took another step to maintain her balance. She needed a different approach. She had fought slippery enemies like this before. Vi cocked her fist back over her shoulder. She quickly lifted it over her head in a faint, her gauntlets protesting with a hiss of steam at the sudden change of direction. Vi interlaced her fingers, swinging downward with a scream at the top of Katarina's head. The assassin stepped backward. Swiping at her attacker with her right hand as the obvious blow missed her by a mile. A neat red split appeared along Vi's upper arm. Vi recycled to forward momentum from her attack and lunged forward. Her fingers separated, bared like tigers claws. Katarina realized she was dangerously out of position for football tackle heading her way. She attempted to focus, envisioning appearing behind her opponent but as was often the case the brief moment of concentration required for a proper shunpo was ripped away from her as Vi hit her like a train.

Vi roared, her weight knocking Katarina off her feet. She landed on top of the assassin, pinning Katarina between her thighs. She spotted the incoming counter attack from her left side. Her massive fist closed around the redhead's wrist. The familiar sensation of bones splintering under her metal fingers shot up her arm as Katarina yelped in pain. Vi released, the assassin's arms weren't her focus as her fingers closed around Katarina's hips. Katarina bit her lip, feeling her lower two sets of ribs snap as Vi lifted her effortlessly into the air over her head.

"Get dunked, BITCH!" Vi screamed triumphantly as she slammed the assassin back into the ground. Katarina's head smacked against the cobblestone, stars flashed across her vision as she suddenly felt sleepy.

"_Kat!"_ The tether shook violently, Beyal's stress and worry leaking through in waves. She was going to lose and it was going to hurt- it was going to hurt a lot. Katarina bit her tongue as Vi's fingers wrapped around her left ankle with an audible crunch. The adrenaline washed over her tangibly as her fight or flight reflex kicked into overdrive, her body realizing she was about to be killed. The pain bled away as Vi flung the assassin over her head by her foot like a ragdoll. Katarina hit the ground again, her shoulder blade and collar bone snapping. Vi released her, breathing heavily. She interlaced her fingers, raising her balled hands over her head and arching her back. Katarina's mind ran a damage report as Vi took her sweet time savoring the kill she was about to make.

_No left leg, no left arm, no right shoulder, possible concussion, broken ribs._ The voice in the back of her head said quickly as she looked heavy hextech death in the eyes. Katarina let her eyes drift shut. She could feel pain leaking over the tether as Beyal bit his lip. She didn't want to lose so helplessly in front of him while he could feel it. Her brain called for emergency, her nerves deadened. Katarina felt numb; this was her only chance. She attempted to focus over the hissing of steam approaching. She snapped her eyes open. The ground met her feet as she shunpo'ed. Standing on her right foot with her left tucked up, she thrust her remaining cutlass downward. It connected with flesh in one of the more satisfying stabs Katarina had performed in her career. Katarina felt herself smile; she had to win before the pain returned, while she could still focus. She let go of the weapon as Vi yelled in pain and surprise, attempting to retaliate with a backhand as she whirled around. Katarina allowed herself to fall backward away from the attack, converting the energy into a backwards roll as her right hand fell to her knife belt. Her green eyes locked onto her enraged and disoriented target. The throwing knife was pulled. With a snap of her arm and a flick of her wrist, it was gone. The knife sailed helplessly past Vi and clattered to the ground near her tower. Katarina blinked, realizing she had forgotten to remove Beyal's gift knife from her belt. She swore inwardly as Vi leaned into a shoulder charge toward her. She was dead; she had no way to evade, no time to return her hand to her knife belt, no energy to shunpo a second time. Katarina gritted her teeth. She was stronger- she wouldn't lose. She pressed her broken foot against the cobblestone, continuing the upward motion with her right hand. Vi was within feet of her when her fingers closed around the cutlass on her back. She drew the weapon and pulled it downward, biting deep into Vi's shoulder. The Piltover girl recoiled, startled by the attack, the damage wasn't lethal, but it gave Katarina options as Vi lost her balance and fell on top of the redhead for the second time in less than a minute. The assassin gripped the hilt, keeping Vi from sitting upright as she brought her forehead into contact with the Piltover girls nose.

"Aghh!" Vi raised her hands to her face. Katarina didn't waste her chance; she wrenched the weapon loose from the girl's shoulder and thrust forward with a snarl. The weapon punched through Vi's composite armor, equipment built to protect against gunshots, not melee weapons, and into the girl's heart. Vi froze, blinking. She looked down, blood dripping from her nose onto Katarina's chest as the assassin let go of the weapon and fell limply back onto the cobblestone, spent. The idea of sleep overwhelmed the Piltover girl as thick streams of red fluid ran down to weapon.

"_I __think she got you."_ Marten piped up over the mental tether. Vi blinked again, looking blankly at Katarina who smiled weakly back at her. Vi used to last of her strength to sit upright. Feeling Katarina's boot press against her stomach, her balance vanished and she toppled backward.

"Fuck," Vi muttered. The mental tether snapped. She was feeling light-headed. The Piltover girl remembered learning that lightheadedness occurred as a child, but was strangely unable to remember why. Her eyelids felt heavy. She sighed, deciding a nap was in order. Her breathing stopped, Katarina blinked, watching the League's magic catch her on the brink of death.

"Vi has been slain!" The announcer boomed. Katarina sighed, biting her lip as all of the pain returned in force. Her body decided to remind her of the injuries she was very aware of already as the adrenaline bled away.

"_Don't fucking scare me like that, Kat,"_ Beyal scolded over the tether. Katarina snorted tiredly.

"_Why the fuck are you so worried, dumbass? If I die, it's not like it matters,"_ she replied in thought. Beyal sighed over the tether. The assassin felt herself smile weakly. _"Just get me back to the fountain then take me home."_ Beyal didn't reply, though she could practically see him nodding solemnly in agreement. Blue rings appeared around her prone form. The hum of magical energy threatened to give the assassin a headache as she reappeared on the fountain. Katarina didn't move. The healing energies of the fountain felt like warm water. The pain began to dull as her relatively few cuts and scrapes as well as many broken bones began to uncomfortably knit themselves back together. A memory of the summoner energetically explaining how the process actually worked before she disinterestedly dismissed him came to mind. Maybe she should ask him again, the assassin mused. She bit her lip and pushed herself upright; nothing hurt anymore. The process was remarkably fast, though every time she stood on the fountain, she found herself wishing it were faster.

"_Okay, hang on, I'm bringing you back,"_ Beyal said flatly. Katarina nodded as flecks of rain landed on her face. As much as Katarina liked to fight, her encounter with Vi was a little too close for comfort. The assassin stood in limbo, eyeing the now very angry looking Piltover girls floating across from her. The girl raised the middle fingers on both of her hextech gauntlets, yelling at the assassin from a distance. Her feet hit the ground without a wobble. Beyal smirked at her.

"Does shunpo always give you so much trouble?" The summoner asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"Yes, I can't seem to use it while I'm in pain. But when I'm being piloted, they always seem to do it just fine," Katarina replied. She felt her knife belt- the League's equipment-retrieving magic had worked. Beyal's throwing knife sat neatly in her front left holster. She pulled it loose, glaring at Beyal. "This thing nearly got me killed," the assassin said flatly.

Beyal crossed his arms raising an eyebrow. "How is it my fault if you forgot to remove it?" Katarina opened her mouth to reply as the door flung open, spewing out four summoners who made their way into the chamber. Beyal turned to them. "You guys are early," he said flatly.

Werhan gave him a mischievous look. "Why, are we interrupting something?"

Beyal grinned at him, sneaking a glance at Katarina. The next match wasn't for nearly an hour. "Nope," Beyal replied with a grin.

**Author's notes: I'm not really happy with how Vi came out. I may go back later and rework her a bit. The fluff is growing and growing and growing. Edit: Made some minor formating changes to the "summoner balancing form." to make it less confusing to read.**


	10. Ancient Stirrings

**Author's Notes: well with spring brake right around the corner im glad I could put this up just in time for everyone whom enjoys this story to do so with free time on there hands. Lots of big walls of text in this. Sorry about those but I had difficulty grasping the chaos of a team fight without them. Thank you all for your reviews and criticism, I thrive on it and would like more. Enjoy.**

Chapter 10

Ancient Stirrings

Celene shifted her fingers against the wooden counter of the shop. Rain drops pounded aggressively against the Ionian's hood. Celene inhaled softly, taking in the smell of wet grass, dirt and pine trees. She stole a look over her shoulder. Everyone on her team looked upset and uncomfortable, except for Nami. The mermaid sat on a cushion of magically animated water. She straightened her arms over her head with a squeak, shifting on her cushion towards Graves.

"What's wrong?" The Tidecaller asked. Celene wasn't sure about an age, but she was sure the mermaid was young, perhaps as young as Lux. Graves looked at her sideways. The announcer welcomed them just as Graves opened his mouth to answer.

"It's wet," the outlaw said flatly. Nami didn't seem to understand what the problem was. Considering she was practically a fish, it made since she wouldn't. The mermaid looked completely at home in the sheets of rain. A bolt of lightning streaked across the monster's vision, illuminating the battlefield with a deafening crack. Celene eyed Riven as she began to descend the steps towards the Nexus. The Exile bit her lip and covered her eyes after each blast without fail. Celene paused, looking at the Exile over her shoulder. Riven huffed, as if pushing away the memory of a bad dream, hauling her soaked white hair out of her face with her fingers.

"Riven?" Celene called worriedly.

"I'M FINE!" Riven screamed. Celene blinked in surprise, frowning at the white-haired woman. Riven glanced around. Her team was staring at her, even Graves looked worried. She straightened up, releasing a cross between her signature sigh and a deep exhalation. She looked straight forward towards her lane. "I'm fine. We need to move." Riven said, her tone commanding. Irelia narrowed her eyes, marching off towards the jungle. Nami seemed to "float" away on her cushion. Graves jogged beside her sideways, watching the odd sight. Celene remained where she was, watching Riven force back a shiver. The monster gripped her brooch, undoing the clasp and sliding it from the fabric of her heavy cloak. She pulled the cloak over her head, ruffling her hair that instantly became pinned to her head by the rain. Celene tossed the heavy brown cloak at Riven.

"You're going to get hypothermia," Celene said flatly she paused briefly, looking at the golden object tossing it to the exile. Riven caught it nimbly. The two exchanged nods. Riven turned on her heel, whirling the cloak around her shoulders she securing it. The Exile heard the familiar whoosh of the Ionian dematerializing, made all the more obvious as the blue flash reflected off the sheets of rain. Riven drew the hood, noticing no part of the cloak was wet. _It must be enchanted,_ she thought, taking off towards the top lane and the blood.

"_Riven, I'm worried, you're not yourself- I can feel it through the tether,"_ Kathrine said gravely in the back of Riven's head. Riven shook her head, sending droplets of water everywhere.

"I don't like thunder. It sounds like Zaun Melters," Riven said aloud, hoping the sound of her voice would calm her nerves. They told her in training the strong aren't afraid. Riven bit her lip. She was alive. She survived the chemical attacks that invalidated all the strength of her platoon and herself. Either they were wrong, or the system itself was broken. Riven pushed the thought from her head.

"_I can't say I understand, but there are no Melters here,"_ Kathrine replied. Riven rolled her eyes. She didn't need to be comforted like some child. _Maybe I do__**?**_ A small thought poked in the back of her mind. The thunder echoed across the battlefield again. Riven flinched, clearing her head with a vigorous shake

"I'm aware," Riven said aloud again. She blinked. "I just see the faces." She rounded the soft bend at the edge of safe territory. Past curtains of water, she could make out her enemy. The woman looked very agitated, shifting from leg to leg. She spotted Riven and cracked a smile. A chance to release the stress, Riven guessed. The woman slammed her fist into her palm; the sound was carried away by the rain. Riven slowed her breathing, preparing for battle.

"Minions have spawned!" The announcer boomed, somehow managing to be just as loud over the raging storm. _Not long now,_ Riven thought to herself.

–

Celene wiped her eyes. Part of her regretted being sympathetic. She internally scolded her selfishness. Celene had no problem working someone over to make things easier on herself. She had stolen hundreds of times, but when the other party was Riven, it didn't feel right.

Her enemy levitated roughly seventy feet from her, rain falling around her as if she had an invisible umbrella. Her long white hair flowed idly in the wind as she eyed the monster with obvious eagerness. It looked like the woman could barely wait to fight. A lot of people in the League seemed to be like that, Celene noted in the back of her head- more pointless information. She was clearly very powerful. The three obsidian black spheres that rotated around the woman made Celene's hairs stand up. She smiled.

"_You feel that?"_ Beyal commented over the tether. Celene smiled.

"_Yep__. __Her__ magical presence is strong enough to trip my sense of touch. __She's__ special__-__ that's only happened once s__ince__ I got here__,__"_ Celene replied in her head. She wiped her hair out of her eyes.

"_When was the other time?"_ Beyal asked.

"_Lux's l__aser__,__"_ Celene said mentally. Her eyes ran her opponent over. A feeling of dread hovered in the air. This was going to be hard. Celene pressed her mouth into a thin line as her mind wandered into dangerous places. _No I shouldn't, if it comes to that __I'll__ settle for losing__,_ the Ionian thought to herself. She blinked the rain from her eyes, reasoning that she didn't have the ability at the moment, regardless-compassion had taken that. The Ionian cracked a small smile.

"_What are you talking about?"_ Beyal asked, her thoughts leaking over the tether. Celene felt her smile expand at her own carelessness.

"Never again," Celene whispered cheerfully. Her lips peeled back into a grin, exposing her teeth. The shifting of clothing brought itself to her attention. A thin line of minions marched its way into the land with robotic organization.

"_I don't like her eyes__,__"_ Beyal said, spotting Celene's red flag. Celene made sustained eye contact. The woman floated a foot off the ground, choosing to peer down at Celene in a predatory manner instead of looking straight at her. The woman's eyes glowed a bright violet. As the minions clumped up, she motioned with her hand, her face contorted for a moment in effort. With a crack, a black sphere of magical energy appeared in the middle of the minion wave, sucking in all the rain within ten feet of it. The minions caught in its formation seemed to shatter, crumpling and turning to ashes. Celene whistled a single note in admiration. This was some very complex magic, but a bit too complex to be practical. Though the results were intimidating, the same could be achieved with a simple blast of mana-fire and with considerably less effort. Celene extended her arm, spearing a minion, not removing her eyes from the mage.

The dance continued peacefully for several minutes, neither mage really testing the other. Syndra would annihilate the minion wave in one swift motion, leaving Celene to pick off her minions as they approached. Neither was gaining any ground. Celene's minions met Syndra's again. The dolls began clubbing each other and casting pathetic spells. Syndra raised her hand flashily over her head and the wave died with a loud crack as her minions advanced around the new hovering sphere of magical energy. Syndra whipped her other hand forward, a violet tether latching onto the orb. She yanked it behind herself and hurled it at the Ionian. Celene inhaled and vanished, the sphere passing through where she had just been. The Ionian reappeared within several feet of the mage. Her chest burned. Tendrils erupted from her hands, darting towards the mage. Syndra reacquired her, sweeping her hand. A wave of violet energy sprang from her fingertips, easily brushing aside the snaking tendrils. Syndra smiled triumphantly with a "Ha!" Celene smirked back at her, waiting for her to act again. Neither made a move, the pair just stared at each other. Celene could feel the demon in her chest warming her through the chill of the rain, her breathing accelerating. The demon poked at the back of her mind ambitiously. _W__hat aptitude, imagine what you could do with that__…_ She decided to ignore it for the moment- she would get her chance.

The farming had resumed. Syndra had a very obvious pattern; she would create a sphere, killing the minions in the process, then hurl the sphere at her enemy, only for it to be avoided lazily by Celene. All the Ionian had to do was wait. Syndra simply ignored the minions not caught in the blast from her sphere, letting them fall to Celene's own minions, while Celene wasn't being as wasteful. The mage was clearly a prodigy and she knew it- her movements were flashy and exaggerated. Celene decided to test her. The monster wondered how much concentration maintaining the orbs took. Syndra seemed to let them dissipate after a few moments. An experiment was in order.

"So where are you from?" Celene asked as her minion line passed her, meeting Syndra's. The woman eyed her before flicking her wrist, contorting her face. Celene acted, teleporting past the forming sphere within feet of Syndra. The mage raised her hands over her head after the cast as if performing on stage and dramatically opened her eyes just in time to see Celene's teeth close around her outstretched hand. The mage yelped in pain, less then gracefully ripping her hand free. Celene tasted blood. The mage cradled her hand for a moment looking at the Ionian in a brief shock before snarling and flicking her other wrist.

"Insect!" Syndra growled. Her voice had a magic echo to it. Celene disappeared again as a sphere formed right where she had been less than a second before. The monster's thin fingers wrapped around the horns on Syndra's headpiece, pulling them to the sides to expose her neck. Syndra was ready this time, clenching her fists and exclaiming, emitting a pulse of violet energy. Celene couldn't react, getting caught in the blast. The monster yelped in pain, feeling several of her ribs snap as it launched her backward. The Ionian pushed the pain out of her mind, disappearing before she made contact with the ground. She made a mental note not to grab onto the mage next time as she reappeared within striking range. Tendrils advanced on Syndra in waves. The mage effortlessly swatted them aside, Celene moved again, another sphere appearing where she was. Syndra acquired her, forcing Celene to move again as another orb appeared. Syndra tethered the first orb she had created flicking her wrist upon spotting the monster again. _She is__ nothing if not predictable, though a__ slip up may just get me killed,_ Celene thought, disappearing to avoid Syndra's fourth sphere. The mage hurled the tethered orb angrily. She was flushed, breathing heavily and wore an expression like she was trying to power through a difficult math problem. The action seemed to slow. Celene counted seven spheres, including the three orbiting Syndra. One final test. The monster closed the distance with the mage, lashing out with her blue strands. Syndra swiped her hand forcefully in their direction. Celene smirked as the spell seemed to fizzle. Syndra snarled, floating backwards away from the barrage coming her way. The tendrils connected, puncturing the mage's leg as she turned to zip away towards her tower. Celene gave her arm a dramatic sweep, ripping the mage from the air and slamming her into the ground. A splash followed, covering Syndra in mud. Celene noted the woman wasn't wearing shoes with some sadistic amusement. She grinned, ignoring the pain that shot through her ribs as she twisted, flicking her wrist, Syndra was pulled from the ground as if she were a fish the monster had just caught. She swung her arm, pulling the mage through the air. Her smile grew as Syndra was slammed into the ground a second time with a yelp of pain, her headdress dislodging and imbedding itself in the mud with a dull splat.

"Why can't I.. AGHHH!" Syndra screamed in frustration, glaring tangible death at the Ionian. Celene caught one of Syndra's orbs dissipate out of the corner of her eye. The mage looked incredibly angry that her spell had failed. She flicked her wrist with a scream as Celene disappeared. She looked back at where she had been standing, confused, seeing no orb. Her eyes returned to Syndra. The monster gasped as she was ripped off her feet, the tendrils being pulled taught by the sphere that had materialized on top of them. Syndra clenched her fist. The sphere shrank erratically as if she was crushing it. Both mages were dragged along the ground. Celene spotted a glaring weakness in her strategy; the tendrils didn't detach, she had to retract them and the sphere was closer to her then Syndra. Syndra yelled in pain as the tendrils gored her leg, the orb pulling both mage and monster unceremoniously though the mud towards it in heaves.

"FOR IONIA!" Celene and Syndra turned their heads toward the offending bellow as Irelia burst through the reeds that blocked view of the river, just in time to ruin her plans. Syndra bit her lip, flicking her wrist at the charging Irelia. There was no fizzling this time as the wave of violet struck her, lifting her from her feet. Her levitating blades were unaffected, however, as they punched through the wave and rocketed the thirty feet to Syndra with blinding speed. Celene blinked as the mage was skewered by the four floating metal objects with a pained scream. Irelia snarled from her hands and knees, the blades twisted, electing another cry of pain, then ripped outward in an X-shape. Syndra collapsed into the mud with an agonized moan. Her orbs crackled and became misshapen before dissolving into mist.

"First blood!" The announcer boomed. Irelia looked blankly at Celene and pushed herself to her feet. Celene attempted the same, her broken ribs making themselves known now that she wasn't in danger.

"_Potions__,__"_ Beyal said flatly. Celene pulled one of the oddly shaped bottles from her belt. She swallowed the bitter red liquid eagerly and pushed herself to her feet. The rain washed over her body, removing the mud as she eyed Syndra's body. Any blood was being washed away before it could be spotted as the water pooled around the impression she'd made in the soaked earth, making it look as if the rain was burying her. Celene rubbed her burning chest with her hand, swiping at the minion wave with the other. Ignoring precision, she impaled each of the approaching minions numerous times until they all dissolved into ash, allowing hers to advance. She didn't need to say anything as the blue rings appeared at her feet. She stretched, excited for the rejuvenation of the fountain.

–

Riven bit her lip, allowing the nervous tick over the vivid memories each crack of thunder seemed to pull with its booming echo. She and Vi danced around each other, Riven jabbing a minion here, Vi clubbing one there. The two were within reach of each other in the thick of the pile of fighting dolls, but both avoided attacking the other. Riven gritted teeth, wondering why she was in the League in the first place. Why she continued to endure the horrors of combat. Why she was standing in the hollowing rain fighting a woman she had never met. The League's motto came to mind. Riven clearly remembered the night in Kalamanda when she had first seen it. The Exile had volunteered to wash dishes in the Rusty Pick Inn in exchange for a room. Inside the kitchen was a political poster featuring a summoner pushing apart a Noxian and Demacian soldier. _Peace __a__t __A__ny __C__ost_ was inscribed on the bottom. Riven slashed down another minion, ducking the restless punch from Vi that followed. She endured so others didn't have to. She endured so Zaun chemical weaponry would never again rain down on undefended villages. She endured so the land need not withstand another rune war. It was all she could do. Riven felt herself smile softly, sidestepping a vicious uppercut. Her sword seemed to pulse. The Exile could feel its energy, and it felt her inspiration. The two were connected. It was her mirror.

"_Riven, Irelia is coming__,__"_ Kathrine spoke up. Riven didn't answer. She looked solemnly at Vi. The people, the idea, what was being defended and assaulted didn't matter. Just like it didn't matter in war- the stronger side would win in the end. She was nothing but an enemy. Riven was performing a manual service, a chore. Work constantly arose that needed to be done, but that no one wanted to do, like washing dishes at an inn. She was a protector, fighting to resolve the endless conflicts both petty and serious so no lives needed to be lost. The pleasantries of life could be shared after they returned to the Institute, but for the moment, she was an obstacle. Riven's sword pulsed, rapidly reforming into its original unbroken form with a blast of green light and an echoing crack. Vi looked at it shocked. The thunder cracked over the pair. The faces of Riven's old friends and enemies alike flashed through her head, clawing at themselves as their skin melted like wax. Riven allowed the images. it was her duty to carry the burdens of war so that the world would never make such mistakes again.

"Never again," Riven said solemnly to herself; her face stiffening, amber eyes boring a hole in Vi's forehead as she took an aggressive step. "NEVER AGAIN!" The Exile bellowed and lunged, the tip of her sword dragging through the mud. Vi returned from her moment of stunned confusion just in time to knock the blow aside. Riven's smile never wavered as she meet Vi's attempted counter with her blade. The dull thunk of metal striking stone was carried away by the rain as Irelia came charging from the bushes. Vi snapped to the fast approaching Ionian. Knowing should couldn't fight them both she turned and ran. Riven took off after her, rapidly gaining ground. She felt truly alive.

–

Celene slogged quickly towards sound of gunshots. Syndra hadn't returned to her lane since being killed, giving the monster the time to do a bit of roaming. The storm continued to rage over head, the sounds of pounding rain drowning out the loud sloshing the monster carelessly produced as she waded past the dragon pit. Celene could see muzzles flashes through the sheets of rain. A few more steps and shouts could be heard. The monster pushed her way into the reeds, sinking low against the water's surface. She inhaled. Celene had forgotten what it felt like not to have massive droplets of water constantly pounding against her head and shoulders.

It didn't look good. Graves and Nami were pushed back; Caitlyn and Lux sat comfortably in the center of the lane. The metagame the summoners always talked about was beginning to make sense. The champions sent bottom lane could reach each other from practically anywhere within sight. Standing up against other ranged bombardment without cover, healing, or shielding magic seemed somewhat impossible.

"_What are you waiting for?"_ Beyal asked skeptically. Celene smiled, watching the shifting shapes through the rain and reeds. The monster doubted her ability to harm Caitlyn, at least with Lux protecting her. The girl's binding magic could prove dangerous. Celene's chest burned, the heat working its way to her cheeks. She found it hard to wait. The monster shifted impatiently. Possessing someone was beyond the realm of wanting anymore, she needed to do it.

Lux exclaimed, taking a step forward and hurling a light binding at Nami. The spell was clearly visible, shining through the rain. Celene exhaled and disappeared. Her thin fingers wrapped around the magazine of Caitlyn's rifle. The monster pushed the rifle off center as she ripped the magazine loose. Caitlyn yelped in surprise, stumbling back. Celene shoved, dropping the magazine to be buried in the mud. Caitlyn fell backward from her kneeling position, the long weapon pressed between them. The officer hit the ground, her hat leaving her head. She gritted her teeth and pushed against her rifle, keeping Celene's teeth away from her. The hot barrel of the weapon burned Celene's collarbone. The monster twisted, sliding her thumb inside the trigger guard with Caitlyn's index finger. The two scuffled on the ground. Caitlyn pushed hard against the rifle, trying to create enough space to kick the monster off. It wasn't working and Lux hadn't noticed, she was too busy exchanging spells with Nami. Graves ducked from the bushes, taking aim at the wrestling pair, he paused. Unable to get a clear shot he leaned and ran forward.

"Get off me! Lux help!" Caitlyn screamed, sliding the rifle up across the front of Celene's body, slamming the barrel into her chin. Celene bit her tongue. The monster yelped Lux's attention was called and clenching her fingers. The weapon went off with an ear ringing bang, narrowly missing the light mage. Caitlyn kicked Celene off with a loud yell and scrambled to her feet. The woman leveled the rifle as Celene regained her balance. The monster looked up only to see the barrel of a gun a foot from her face held by an angry, mud-covered sheriff of Piltover. The weapon clicked hollowly. Caitlyn blinked, pulling the trigger again. Again the weapon clicked. Caitlyn stole a glance downward at her trigger assembly, panic rising in her heart as the corners of Celene's mouth curled upward. The large banana magazine was conspicuously absent from the weapon's left side. Caitlyn looked desperately over at Lux. The Demacian beat her fists furiously against the sides of a large bubble that encased her.

The sheriff didn't have a choice; she lowered her rifle to her chest, spun on her heel and ran. "Come on now sheriff, if you do that how will i unzip your skin and wear you like a fur coat?" Celene teased, trotting after the sprinting woman briefly before appearing in front of her. The sheriff ran into her outstretched hand. The thin fingers closed around Caitlyn's neck as she was torn from her feet. Tendrils erupted from her back and hands. Caitlyn's rifle was quickly wrenched out of the way. The blue strands snaked up the side of Caitlyn's head, over and behind her ears into her muddy hair. More worked their way downward, encircling her wrists. Celene grinned wildly as she managed to pin the woman. The monster leaned in, her forehead touching Caitlyn's. The sheriff began to struggle frantically, knowing what was about to happen. Celene could hear gunshots and spells being cast behind her, Lux had gotten free but she didn't care. She smiled at the woman with heavy sigh, bordering on an excited moan as all the heat in her chest was released. Caitlyn screamed in panic. Her jaw popped as the tendrils wrenched open her mouth. Caitlyn choked, the writhing mass forcing its way down her throat.

_Finally…_ Celene thought. Her vision began to fade into black. The struggling terrified woman beneath her curled up as the monster fell limply on top of her. Caitlyn kicked her away viciously, struggling against the mass of blue strands she was forced to swallow. Her bindings loosened but her body stopped responding as a wave of convulsions hit her. Her eyes squeezed shut gagging and choking as her body did everything in its power to keep the foreign invaders out to no avail. The last of the tendrils disappeared. Convolutions ground to a halt as an absolutely alien presence seemed to seep into the back of her head. It felt like oil on her skin. It was everywhere- under her skin to the tips of her fingers and toes, slinking into her memories. Caitlyn tried to scream. No sound came, only a smile that wasn't hers.

Lux ducked though the bushes, running frantically for her tower. Graves couldn't see her, evident by the shotgun blasts ripping through the tall grass. She could hear Caitlyn screaming. The Demacian threw her baton ahead of her. The spell strained. Lux huffed, her reserves of mana bordering on empty. The shield formed just as Lux burst from the bushes, looking over her shoulder to see Caitlyn crumpled on the ground, shaking as the tail end of a glowing blue strand slid down her throat and out of sight. Buckshot bounced off the spherical shield with a resounding crack. It held, being near the edge of Graves range. She caught the baton, refreshing the shield. Lux spun, sliding it to its end between her fingers and swinging her arm. The last ounce of her mana was called to bear with some effort for a final light binding. Graves dove less then gracefully out of the way as the spell sailed by. Nami yelped as the ropes of light burned her skin. _Good enough,_ Lux thought, turning again and leaning into a full sprint. Lux huffed again, her hands meeting the cold wet stone of her tower. She jogged around behind it to break line of sight before limply sliding down against it to her knees. She was out of breath, tired, stressed, wet and freezing cold.

"Get me out of here..." She said out loud weakly. She was secretly happy Caitlyn had been taken instead of her. The idea of being on the receiving end of Celene's somewhat signature ability didn't excite Lux one little bit. The girl slammed the back of her head into the tower. _W__hat kind of Demacian are you?!_ She mentally scolded. Lux bit her lip, wanting to go back around the tower and engage. Her logic took over. She didn't have the mana to do much. Blue rings appeared around her feet. Lux slide upright against the tower, clenching her fists. She gave her baton a spin. She should have been watching Caitlyn more closely. "Where was the call on middle coming down?" Lux barked over the tether.

"_Sorry Lux, Mark is having issues controlling Syndra, he didn't see Celene leave,"_ Matthew said. Lux nodded. She wanted to win; she wanted to make her brother proud of her.

"Dammit," Lux muttered, the hum of teleportation magic in her ears.

Celene opened her eyes, spluttering. She shielded her new eyes from the rain and looked up. Caitlyn had amazing eyesight. Each raindrop stayed in vivid focus regardless of whether or not she looked straight at it. Graves leaned over her, his shotgun smoking. Celene looked up into the barrels before shifting upward to the man's face. Her lips curled upward softly. Graves looked rather shocked, cautiously leaning in and giving Celene a rough prod with the barrel of his weapon. "What in the nine hells are you?" The outlaw asked slowly, his voice somehow more gravelly than normal.

Celene sat up, silently cursing Caitlyn for wearing a skirt. "At the moment, I'm Caitlyn," the monster said, giving Graves a crooked grin. The outlaw blinked- Celene spoke without an accent. It was somewhat unsettling. The outlaw extended his gloved hand, which Celene readily accepted. Graves crushed her fingers as he hauled her out of the mud. He snuck a glance backwards at the approaching Nami.

"Well, uhh, that's unsettlin'." Graves glanced away from her, doing his best to look tough as he rubbed the back of his head. Celene suppressed a rabid giggle.

"Nice to meet you, again," Celene said, bending down to retrieve Caitlyn's rifle from the mud. Graves gave her a hard look.

"_Celene, Syndra's coming__,"_ Beyal said. The tether shook, causing Celene to shiver. She shifted her eyes up the river. Graves nodded and turned to face the river as well. He squinted, unable to see what she was looking at. A pair of purple eyes pierced the veils of rain from beyond the dragon pit- nothing more than tiny floating specks. _Damn, Caitlyn can see,_ Celene thought to herself. She felt around for where on her person the sheriff kept her magazines. After a moment of feeling and an odd look from Graves, she found them strapped to the side of her thighs. She held the rifle sideways, letting the rain clear off the mud. The monster pulled a magazine from the pouch on her right thigh, placing it between her breasts and grabbing the charging handle of the weapon. She gave the handle a few solid pulls, making sure no mud was caught in the machinery before retrieving the magazine and slamming it into the weapon. She pulled the charging handle a final time. The brass round was visible for a short moment before being pulled into the chamber. She pointed. The purple eyes drifted closer.

"Always trouble," Graves muttered, readying his weapon. Celene considered shooting at the woman, but the weapons experience she had siphoned from Caitlyn told her the rain would likely make her miss. It wasn't worth it. The monster caught movement out of the corner of her new eyes. Earth pushed herself to her feet, shivering uncontrollably. Graves whirled around, his weapon raised. Earth squeaked and put her hands over her head. A stream of panicked Ionian left her mouth. The outlaw paused, pointing open mouthed at Caitlyn beside him then at earth. Celene smirked at him.

"Earth, thank you for accommodating me, now get to safety," she spoke up in Ionian. Earth snapped her eyes to her, nodding frantically. She was clearly scared. The girl turned, jogging back towards the tower.

"I should walk her back; they may still think she's you. Besides, I don't fancy tanglin' with that woman." Graves said, turning on his heel and marching towards the tower.

"Gentleman, aren't you," Celene muttered as he passed. She raised her rifle, aiming at the approaching mage, deciding to try anyways. She pulled the lever on the rifle's side, causing the barrel to telescope to twice its original length. The lenses lining the barrel flipped up, providing surprising zoom. Celene whistled to herself. Not only did Caitlyn have amazing eyes, her hands were steadier then a surgeon. What little sway there was, Celene simply adjusted for. The lenses seemed to blur the image- raindrops appeared massive, the purple eyes were now much larger. Celene bit her lip, centering Caitlyn's wire X crosshairs slightly above Syndra's head. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her skin prickled. Celene thought nothing of it, assuming it was Syndra getting close.

"Demacia!" Lux's shrill voice came echoing from the bottom tower. Celene turned her head just in time to see a blinding white light. Death was instantaneous. Lux smiled brightly. Peering through the waving super-heated air in front of her, she blinked. The ground underneath the laser was dried and cracked, the rain just starting to wet it again. Hot steam filled the air from the droplets unlucky enough to be in Lux's way at just that moment. "Ahh, I love it when a plan comes together."

Garen pushed himself from his chair, raising his fist. "Good job, Luxanna!" Vayne looked at him, a smile crossing her lips as Caitlyn practically vaporized, taking Celene along with her. The older Crownguard checked to see that his chair was indeed beneath him still before sitting down.

The match continued. After her first death, Vi seemed to stabilize, as Irelia focused most of her attention on bottom lane. With constant visits from the Ionian warrior, Graves and Nami began to catch up. After constant pressure, Caitlyn and Lux were forced to retreat, allowing the bottom turret to fall. The team then caught Fiora, leaving the ancient golem camp by way of the river. As skilled as the duelist was, she stood little chance in a three on one and fell. Irelia, Graves and Nami managed to kill the dragon while Celene kept Syndra busy.

–

"_Riven, the others say the team is shifting up your way. Vi's tower is our next goal. If we win a large fight at this point in the match, we could easily run away with a victory,"_ Kathrine said, a hint of excitement in her voice. Riven nodded. The Exile began to strike down minions more quickly, allowing hers to push. Vi recognized the signs and backed off, putting ground between her and the minion wave. Celene pushed her way through the reeds, strolling into the lane as if walking through a park on a sunny afternoon. She gave Vi a nodding "Hello."

"How's the cloak?" Celene asked with a mischievous smile. Vi raised an eyebrow as the smiling Ionian made no attempt to kill her. The woman retreated quickly to her tower. She kept one eye on Celene, the other on the bush in case any more of the opposing team showed up.

"You're not getting it back," Riven said, sneaking a tiny smile at the Ionian, who faked a frown and stomped her foot. The Exile swatted down the last minion, her wave quickly pushing on the tower. Vi took a step back. The rest of blue team drifted into lane from the river.

"_Vi__,__ I would advise you__ to__ fall back and let the tower go, your team is coming__,__"_ Marten said, judging from his tone he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Vi gritted her teeth, abandoning the tower to the other team. They were in a dangerous position. The blue team's combined ability made short work of the stone defender and they quickly advanced into the lane, encroaching on the lane's second tower. After what felt like ages, Vi's teammates trickled in to aid her. The first to come was Fiora. The Duelist glared at her, silently scolding the Piltover girl for allowing the tower to fall. Next to come was Syndra, earning a few worried glances from the opposing blue team, followed shortly by Caitlyn and Lux. A war of posturing began. Spells were hurled into the group of champions from both sides. Shots were fired, either missing or nicking, only to get healed away. Syndra made an advance on the purple team's tower impossible. The powerful mage instantly obliterated the minion waves that allowed safety in an advance. The duel continued for several minutes.

"What are we waiting for?" Vi snapped at her team, the Piltover girl itched to get her hands dirty. She wanted to ram the smiling Ionian's face into the dirt, more than tired of the girl's odd looks and smirks. Lux stepped in front of her, hurling a light binding in Irelia's direction. The woman stepped out of the way, made easy be the distance the spell had to travel.

"Nous attendons quelqu'un pour se faire prendre," Fiora said in a dismissive tone. The duelist despised newbies. Vi glared at her, her fists at the ready.

"What the hell does that mean!?" Vi barked. Fiora grabbed Vi's collar, throwing her with surprising ease out of the way of the mess of blue tendrils hurdling her way. Fiora smirked mockingly at Vi.

"Look out!" Lux screamed from behind them. Celene grinned, the tendrils whipped to the side. Fiora and Vi looked up. It was too late- the blue strands met Vi's ankles, knocking her feet from under her. The woman spun and hit the mud, with a grunt of surprise. Fiora attempted to vault over the assaulting strands, one barely catching the bottom of her leg. The Demacian landed and stumbled clumsily.

"Good enough," Irelia muttered, breaking into a charge. The rest of blue team followed, leaning into a sprint. Syndra flicked her wrist attempting to lead Graves with the formation of a sphere. The outlaw gritted his teeth and dived out of the way.

Nami twirled her staff. The raindrops stilled, hovering in the air for a moment before swirling into a whirling mass of growing water. She slammed the end of her staff on the ground. "Oceans spill forth!" The mass surged forward, quickly growing into a thirty foot wave. The wave caught up with her charging team, effortlessly rolling around her teammates. Gaps formed as it reached them, allowing them to safely pass through without so much as getting dripped on. Caitlyn blinked, unable to squeeze shots past the massive speeding wall of water. Syndra drifted to the front lines as the wave cast a shadow over the now-scattering purple team. The mage bit her lip, slamming her palm against the ground. A magical ring echoed into the afternoon, drowning out the roar of the wave. Syndra gritted her teeth, pitting her raw power against Nami's elemental aptitude. The mage pulled her hand from the ground, arching her back as she held her palm to the sky. The wave split neatly down the center, widening as the water was pushed off to the sides. Her team piled in behind Syndra. Vi stumbled to her feet just in time as the opposing team to collapsed on them. Graves skidded to a halt, sending a canister of smoke at Caitlyn. Caitlyn knelt down, tracking the canister. The sheriff squeezed the trigger, sending the canister wildly off course next to Fiora and Vi where it exploded in a white cloud thick smoke. Graves didn't let up, sending a blast of buckshot towards the sheriff as her sights returned to him. The shot deflected with crack off a well-timed shield from Lux.

Celene appeared above the sheriff's sights. Caitlyn hauled her weapon up to deal with the new high priority threat. The Ionian wrapped her fingers around Lux's baton as it magically flew back towards the light-mage. She disappeared again, reappearing off to Caitlyn's right and hurling the heavy rod at the back of Fiora's head. The duelist avoided it by sheer luck, ducking a sideways swipe at her neck from Riven's fully reformed sword. Celene blinked, teleporting out of the way as a sphere zipped along the ground, sending up a wave of mud and rocks as it flew through where she had just been, out of the fight and into the jungle. The monster filled the sheriff's sights, sending her perfect shot harmlessly out of the fight as Celene shoved her rifle aside. Irelia, Graves and Nami charged into the fray. A maelstrom of gunshots, spells and weapons striking weapons erupted as the teams wrestled with each other. Everyone that wasn't tied up made a bee-line for Caitlyn. A well placed hand-cast light binding prevented Irelia from collapsing on Caitlyn as the sheriff struck Celene in the stomach with the butt of her rifle. The monster vanished, avoiding a volley of magic spheres from Syndra. Irelia turned in her glowing bindings, her weapons intercepting a lunge from Fiora as Vi rushed in on Riven. Graves advanced slowly, sending slug after slug towards Syndra. The mage ignored him, swatting away the attacks with waves of violet energy from her fingertip. She narrowed her eyes, sending spell after spell at Celene with her other hand. Vi lunged at Riven, catching the Exile in a solid tackle. The pair tumbled into the white cloud of smoke as Irelia shook out of her bindings and engaged Fiora. The Duelist danced gracefully around the Ionians whirling blades, parrying each vicious strike with surprising ease. She advanced a step, forcing Irelia to step back.

Lux stumbled, a stray gunshot narrowly missing her as she sprinted through the chaos. She reached her goal, diving forward in a role and scooping up her baton from the muddy earth. The Mage returned nimbly to her feet, her mud coated baton falling level with Graves. The outlaw was solely focused on Syndra. The area around Lux dimmed noticeably as the baton began to buzz. Lux heaved, attempting to send her most powerful spell flying faster then was comfortable. The end of her baton pulsed with a blinding light. Celene appeared behind her, the Ionian's dirty hands on Lux's arm as if instructing her on how to aim. The monster kneed Lux in the ribs, pushing her aim towards Syndra. The spell fired in a blast of blinding light. Syndra spotted the baton bearing the haywire spell just in time. Raising both her hands, her palms facing Lux, she shot a blast of velvet energy as she put all of her concentration into deflecting the most powerful spell in the Demacian military. The two spells met with a crash, Syndra's easily overpowering her teammate's, sending Lux off her feet and tumbling into the grass at the edge of the lane. Graves saw his chance, firing again while Syndra was distracted. The shot connected. Syndra yelped in pain as the spray of buckshot embedded itself in her arm. No critical damage; Graves was too far away. Syndra spun to retaliate, summoning her fourth sphere next to the outlaw. Graves spotted it and dove out of the way. He looked up, spotting Nami knocking Caitlyn off her feet with a blast of water.

Celene's fingers wrapped around Syndra's headdress. The distracted mage failed to react as the Ionian's teeth closed on her collarbone. Syndra yelled in pain, reaching to grab the Ionian by the hair. Celene disappeared, leaving a blue tether coiled around Syndra's hand. Celene's feet touched to ground as she twisted, ignoring the pain in her stomach she sent the mage flying into Fiora, knocking the duelist off her feet. Irelia lunged, jamming her weapons into the Demacian's stomach. Fiora gasped, clutching the blades that pinned her to the ground and curling her legs. Irelia turned away from her, ripping the blades loose as she leaned into a charge for Caitlyn.

Syndra pushed herself upright. Stars flashed across her vision. Before she knew it, Celene was on her, the blue strands wrapping around the mage's limbs. The tendrils tightening around her fingers, making any attempt at casting useless. "Guess what?" Celene whispered into the mage's ear with an ambitious grin. Syndra gritted her teeth. "You lose." The monster didn't waste time as her forehead pressed against the struggling mages. Celene exhaled, tendrils exploding from her back.

"Stop her!" Caitlyn screamed over the chaos. The sheriff squinted, firing her rifle from her hip into Nami. The Tidecaller shielded her face with her arms, having no way to defend herself from the gunshots. Caitlyn fired again, her shots sending small scales and blood into the rain behind the Tidecaller. Nami fell to the ground, unable to control the aqua cushion she floated on through the trauma. Caitlyn turned her sights to Celene and the now gagging Syndra, ignoring the fast approaching will of the blades. The sheriff sent shot after shot towards the wrestling pair, it no longer mattered who she hit. Celene shifted, putting her body in between Syndra and Caitlyn's line of sight. Caitlyn gritted her teeth as Irelia closed in her, her blades whirling around he wildly like a saw.

"Stay STILL!" Vi bellowed as Riven ducked an aggressive swing of her gauntlet. The Exile countered, Vi stepped backward, leaving the smoke and narrowly avoiding the blow. The Exile reversed her swing, sinking into her signature combo. Vi ducked the second swipe. She gritted her teeth as the Exile redirected the momentum into a full force downward slash, intent on bring her heavy stone sword down on the Piltover girl's head. Vi had no time to evade, she put her gauntlets in front of her face. Stone clanged against metal as Vi caught the downward slash, halting the blow.

"Ha! Gotcha!" Vi gloated, gripping the sword. She pushed back. Riven found herself being over powered as Vi pushed down. She fell to her knees, her arms shaking from the strain. The Exile focused, sending a pulse through her glowing weapon. A blast of green light erupted from Riven's sword. Vi's gauntlets exploded in her hands, sending steam, scraps of metal and crystal everywhere. Vi took a step back, staring at her now exposed bleeding hands, wide-eyed. Her eyes shifted to Riven. The Exile got to her feet, her gaze burning holes in Vi's chest. Riven drew herself to her full height and inhaled. She brought her foot up, connecting with Vi's stomach. Vi doubled over, clutching her gut as Riven's knee connected with her nose. The bone snapped, sending Vi toppling backward in a crumpled heap.

"I don't kill the unarmed. Not anymore," Riven muttered, stepping over her to help Irelia.

Caitlyn backed away from Irelia. The Ionian's blades furiously tore at the net tangling her body. Caitlyn frowned, firing a single shot into the struggling Ionian. Irelia fell instantly, a hole just above her right eye. The sheriff pulled the magazine from her rifle, scrambling to find a new one.

The sheriff froze. A flash of blue light reflected off the veils of rain in front of her. Caitlyn felt a lump in her throat. She stiffened. The sheriff slowly turned her head, daring to see what was behind her. Syndra stood, her feet apart with her toes in the dirt. She flexed her fingers. Caitlyn just stared, knowing she was dead. Syndra's eyes emitted a soft blue light that reflected off the rain. She wore the most excited expression the sheriff had ever seen in her life as she stepped forward, blue tendrils spilling out of her fingers and back. The sheriff blinked, wheeling about to run. She made it several steps before one of the strands caught up with her, hooking her around her neck like a cane pulling an unsuccessful performer off stage. The strand tightened, removing Caitlyn's access to oxygen. She lost her balance, leveling her rifle with the mage as she was dragged along the ground. Celene gave her a leer. The barrel of the weapon bent with a creak of protest. The monster knelt down, placing her hands on either said of Caitlyn's face.

"Let me be cruel not unusual; I will speak daggers to thee but use none." Celene said softly in Ionian. She shifted her hands, holding Caitlyn in her left hand by her hair. She stood upright, eyeing Vi. Celene began to giggle, marching toward the crawling Piltover girl with Caitlyn in tow. The sheriff kicked, squealing as Celene dragged her, her hands clutching the monster's wrist.

"_Celene... Calm down!"_ Beyal yelled over the tether. Celene cocked her head, severing the connection. She stepped forward and tossed the sheriff with ease into Vi. The pair tumbled. She threw her arms apart, spreading her fingers. Her new long white hair waved over her head in the updraft her magical presence crafted. Celene clenched her fists. The energy flowed so easily with this body. The monster hardly had to do anything at all. No thought was required to direct the flow of mana through her limbs. The rain falling around her evaporated instantly, eleven spheres screaming into existence around her in a ring. The dark orbs whirled around the monster erratically. Celene smiled, rising from the ground. The earth below her cracked and dented downward into a small crater as spheres merged into a massive black blob in front of her.

"Run!" Caitlyn choked, pulling Vi to her feet with new found vigor. Celene outstretched a hand, dipping a finger into the orb. The orb compressed to the size of a marble with a sickening crack. She felt the raw magical energy coursing through her body as she raised her arm and pointed at the limping sheriff. The tip of her index finger glowed bright blue, pulsing dangerously.

"Celene! They're unarmed!" Riven screamed. The monster didn't seem to hear her, her face twisting into what could only be described as ecstasy. Riven's feet moved before she even realized what was happening. She charged her teammate. Her body collided with Celene's, knocking her off her feet. The pair fell to the ground, Riven quickly pinned the monster who made no attempts to resist her. She stared blankly upward past Riven as if she weren't there. Riven gripped Celene's arm. The spell fired harmlessly into the sky. Every hair on Riven's body stood on end, her teeth shaking in protest of the discharging spell behind her head. Celene raised her off hand, placing it on the exiles shoulder. The touch burned, flash frying the Exile's Skin. Riven yelped, ripping the hand loose and slamming her forehead into Celene's. "ENOUGH!" The Exile bellowed into Celene's face. The monster blinked, her expression shifting from pure enjoyment to absolute shock. Riven frowned solemnly. The Exile leaned down, sliding her hands underneath Celene's new body and scooping her into a tight hug. Celene's cloak draped around the two women.

"I... I don't kno-" Celene began.

"It's okay," Riven muttered, digging her fingertips into the woman's back.

"Champions! Stand down," the announcer boomed. Riven looked up. She had never heard the announcer say that before. The ring of summoner magic caught the Exile's ear. With a whoosh, ten summoners appeared in a blue rune-lined ring on the ground. The ring dissipated and the summoner in front pulled his gray hood back. Marten stared hard at the pair of champions in front of him, his face not displaying an ounce of the spring everyone had come to expect from him.

"Everyone drop your weapons. The match is over," Marten said forcefully. Graves looked to Riven then back to the summoner before lowering his shotgun. Marten balled his fists, leaned forward, and marched to the edge of the shallow crater. He looked behind him at the group of nine summoners, the group exchanged faces, unsure what to do.

"You lot tend to your champions. If they are dead, revive them. The time constraints of the match are no longer in effect. Subdue them if need be," Marten said stiffly, Riven never expected his voice could carry so much authority. The group of summoners paused, looking at each other; Beyal shot a worried look at Riven.

"NOW!" Marten barked, the summoners flinched, splitting apart a hurrying off to complete their assigned tasked. The rain was easing, the storms edge inside as the sun once again appeared in the sky.

"Beyal, retrieve Celene's body," Marten ordered. The summoner nodded, hurrying off with the rest. Marten looked hard at Riven. The Exile frowned, pulling Celene into her arms. Standing up, she stepped out of the shallow crater and pivoted, setting Celene's new feet on the ground. Celene blinked tears from her eyes. Marten stared for a moment, seeing Syndra cry was something he never would have expected, even if it wasn't really her. Marten leaned in, putting his hand on her shoulder. Riven placed her hand on the other. Celene felt like a child.

"What in the name of Demacia happened?" Marten asked softly. Celene looked at him.

"I got carried away, it was so easy, it just-" She stopped herself. "It just happened." Celene choked.

Marten looked at her grimly. "It shouldn't have been able to. The Nexuses dampen the area. There was no way you should have been able to accumulate that much energy, let alone control it," Marten said, looking hard at the Ionian. Celene looked back, she felt overwhelmed. Marten smiled softly. "Being a terrifyingly powerful mage isn't against any rules. I do ask you however to try and keep control of yourself. I'm a mage too, I understand. Something similar happened to me when I was a teen, much to the misfortune of my father," Marten muttered. He straightened up, looking at Riven. "Thank you for stopping her. I was about to call for a still."

"A still?" Riven asked, tilting her head. Marten didn't answer.

"Elder Summoner! Everyone's alright, Caitlyn's a bit shaken, but she's okay," Beyal yelled from behind them.

"Thank fuck for that." Marten sighed. "Let's get everyone home."

"That bitch broke my gauntlets!" Vi screamed, pointing at Riven. The Exile gave Vi a look that could break down a door. She sighed, turning away from the yelling woman.

"I won't lie and say I understand what happened, but that wasn't you behind that spell... was it?" Riven asked. The question grated against Celene's ears as she competed directly with Riven's morals.

"It was me... Just part of me I try and keep contained," the Ionian muttered. She felt so guilty she could hardly stand. Caitlyn was a companion, someone she shared laughs with over meals. Celene lowered her head.

"This has happened before, hasn't it?" Riven asked solemnly. Celene nodded, opening her mouth to speak, but finding it dry.

"Yes. Though the last time it did it was much, much worse," she choked. The Ionian bit her lip.

Riven felt herself smile softly. "Well, be happy it wasn't that bad this time. When I was a child, people often told me I didn't know my own strength. It happens to all of us," Riven said softly.

Celene snarled, pushing the exile away from her. "But I do know my own strength! I brought it to bear against someone who neither deserved it nor could defend themself!" Celene screamed, thrusting her finger at Caitlyn. The Sheriff flinched. Everyone paused, staring at the monster. "Caitlyn had no idea what was about to happen to her, neither did Marten, and neither did you!" Celene bellowed. Blue tendrils began to creep from the Ionian's hands as she seethed. She was furious with herself. Riven looked at her blankly, her yellow eyes cutting deep pits into Celene's anger and filling them with guilt. The Ionian frowned, biting her lip and putting her face in her hands.

"I forgive you. No harm done. You however look like you badly need to lie down," Caitlyn spoke up from past Marten. Celene looked up at her weakly.

"Marten, teleport Celene and I to her room. Put her back in her body first, as well," Riven ordered, pulling the Ionian into her arms. Marten raised his finger, opening his mouth to argue. Riven looked at him for a moment. The summoner nodded his head and turned to his companions behind him and there respected champions. One of the summoners pulled Lux to her feet, his hands softly glowing with the fading aura of healing magic.

"Well, I think we should wrap this up. Celene, please hold still for a moment," Marten spoke up. The summoner raised his arms, blue electricity cracking between his fingers. He clenched his fists. The world disappeared. Celene felt a wave of nausea hit her as her stature changed drastically. She doubled over. A gloved hand laid itself on her shoulder. Riven frowned at her in limbo. The Celene couldn't look at her. The world rushed back, the hard floor of Celene's room slamming into her feet, Riven's sword striking the floor next to her with a clatter. The Ionian collapsed. Riven caught her, and she hauled the small woman upright, stepped backward, and sat her on her bed. The guilt overwhelmed her- what she had done to Lux, what she had done to Earth, all the people she'd hurt, all the meddling she'd done, all came rushing back with murderous intent. Celene wanted to die. She wanted to just lie down and die, but knew she couldn't. She was trapped. Riven wrapped her arms around the woman, unsure how else to comfort her as the dam broke loose. Celene gripped Riven's arm tightly, pressing her face into the crux of her elbow. Her features contorted and she screamed at the top of her lungs, screamed until they were empty and her voice cracked. Riven put her hand on the side of Celene's face.

"Celene, look at me. It's alright."

–

Caitlyn's feet hit the ground, the resounding thump of a summon landing repeated several more times. The woman shook her head.

"Officer," Marten said from behind her, the summoner knelt down beside the woman as she sat herself on the steps to the summoning platform. She was a complete mess, her clothing ruined, her hair a matted, muddy wreck. Caitlyn looked at him, acknowledging that he was speaking to her silently.

"You're alright?" Marten asked.

Caitlyn sighed, smiling. In truth she felt faltered by all the worrying. "Please, call me Cait. I'm fine, nothing different then what happens every time I'm summoned." Vi descended the stairs, looking over the pair of gauntlets on her hands. The League's retrieval and repair enchantments had done their job.

"Are all first days like this, cupcake?" Vi asked, slamming her fist into her palm. Everything worked, or at least everything the girl needed to.

Caitlyn smiled to herself. "Yes, Vi," the sheriff lied. "Marten, if you don't mind me asking, what's a still?"

Marten rubbed his chin. "A still is our name for the spell 'Fii.' It's very, very old magic used to stop the passage of time within an area. Depending on the size of the area, it may need to be performed by one to any number of mages in perfect synchronization. We cast a still during the war of Kalamanda," Marten answered.

"It was that bad, huh? It just looked like Lux's laser or something to me," Caitlyn said, smiling grimly. Marten shrugged, cocking his smile.

"We don't know, but better safe than sorry," the summoner replied.

The door to the chamber burst open, a junior summoner in sky blue robes stumbled into the room. "Sheriff Caitlyn!" the summoner stammered, out of breath. "A message from Piltover- they say it's an emergency," the summoner weakly held out a letter. The red ink seal caught the sheriff eyes. She pushed herself to her feet. The sheriff grabbed the letter hastily from the summoners and carelessly tore it open, pulling the slip of paper from inside. The letter fell to the floor as the sheriffs eyes danced over the swirling lines of text.

"There's been a homicide," Caitlyn said, the coldness in her tone catching Marten off guard. The sheriff glared at the hexagraph stapled to the letter. A slip of paper lay in a broken display case, a large C covering its surface. Caitlyn creased the letter, bent down, and slid it back into the envelope.

"I need to leave for Piltover immediately," Caitlyn said, urgency leaking into her voice. She looked over her shoulder at Irelia. Rain water dripped into the sheriff's face. "Irelia, your master's sword has been stolen."

–

Everyone looked on at the orb, stunned. Vayne bit her lip.

"What the hell was that?" Garen muttered. The Nighthunter didn't hear him. She was already on her feet, marching from the room. Vayne turned the corner, hopping nimbly over the banister and landing with a roll before whirling around. Summoners in the hall paused as the Nighthunter gripped the doorknob that led to the summoners' hall and slid inside. The library was in sight. Vayne ducked under a tall summoner's arm as he complemented a smaller, female summoner. Both exclaimed as she shoved them apart to fit past. Finally, Vayne reached her target.

The library had no doors, through silencing enchantments were in place over the archway. A yordle sat on a stool behind the desk labeled "information." He wore the sky-blue robes of a junior summoner. The yordle jumped, dropping his puzzle box as Vayne slammed her hands on the desk.

"I need everything you have on the League's protective enchantments. And access to a champion's reflection." The yordle flinched, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Vayne leaned in. "Now."

"Uhh, miss, uh, Nighthunter, you understand that all of that information is confidential, right?" The junior summoner said slowly, thoroughly confused. Vayne narrowed her eyes. "I can't just give it to you."

"This is important!" barked Vayne. The yordle flinched.

"What is all this racket?" The deep smooth voice rolled over both party's ears. The speaker staggered the words, making sure that one word was entirely complete before moving on to the next. Nasus stepped from between the shelves. The curator of the sands clutched a cookbook under his arm. He was dressed in a long flowing blue robe, a name tag marking him as a chief overseer of the summoners' library. "You are in a library, you know."

Vayne gave the yordle a scathing glance and whirled around. The Nighthunter marched up to the curator. He towered an additional four feet over her. "I need to access to some detailed information on the protective enchantments over Summoner's Rift as well as the champion reflection records," Vayne requested, her tone leveling. The curator, for all his near infinite patience, was no one to tangle with.

"I heard, as did everyone else here," Nasus said in his unique flowing manner. He knelt down into a crouch, still a foot taller than Vayne. "Now, why do you need this information? What has happened?"

Vayne sighed; finally someone was listening to her. "There was an accident during Vi's balancing match. Something happened that shouldn't have happened. The Elder Summoner stopped the match," Vayne said hurriedly. Nasus nodded in comprehension. He carefully turned each word over, making sure he didn't miss anything.

"I see. Well, I regret to inform you that a condition is in place to prevent access to that information except in emergencies. Tell me, Vayne, is the stability of Runeterra at stake, or was this... accident an issue of misconduct between champions?" Nasus asked slowly.

Vayne thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase herself that would allow excess. She knew Nasus would double check everything she said, so lying was out of the question. She bit her lip, realizing she didn't have much.

Nasus straightened upright upon seeing Vayne's somewhat defeated expression. "I see. I'm sorry, Nighthunter, it is against my duties as guardian of this meager archive to permit you access to the information you supposedly require," Nasus said slowly, motioning behind him towards the largest collection of books and knowledge in Valoran. "I will forward your request to the elder summoner's council. Perhaps they can help you. You are, however, welcome to anything behind me," Nasus said, turning his back on her. He opened the cookbook under his arm. Nasus began thumbing through its pages rapidly, attempting to find where he had been before he was interrupted.

Vayne bit her lip. There was no way she could get the information she needed from here, and given her reputation, Nasus would do everything in his power to keep her away from information as private as reflections. She could attempt to break into the storage room, but if Nasus sent a request for her to view the information, the Elders would know it was her. Vayne turned away from Nasus, marching back towards the help desk. She was being self-defeating, the information she needed was probably here somewhere- she just had to look.

"Excuse me," Vayne said softly. The yordle slapped his now-solved puzzle box triumphantly on his desk. He crossed his arms, standing on his stool.

"How may I help you?" He smirked. Vayne sighed.

"Where would your books on monsters and demons be?" the Nighthunter asked. She felt foolish.

The junior summoner massaged his chin before pointing with his short arm off into the depths of the library. "Probably under mythology," he said cheerfully. Vayne nodded and whirled around.

–

Syndra floated in absolute silence. Her mouth sat in a thin line. She was in no mood to be meddled with. How had she done it? That small Ionian had used her own magic more skillfully then she could, harnessed her power better than she could. It should be impossible, but it had happened and it felt incredible. The Dark Sovereign stared straight ahead at the wall. She hadn't moved a single muscle since her summoning back. Everyone else had left- everyone but her summoner, ordered to stay by Marten. He was supposed to watch her. The man was on the tall side, built like a brick house with a square jaw and large hands. But, despite his size, he chose to stand on the exact opposite side of the circular room. _People__ f__ear what they do not understand,_ Syndra muttered internally. She was wasting her time. She could be at the celestial fortress, attempting to tailor her skills to match what she had seen today, or… The Sovereign moved, floating towards the door to the chamber.

"H-h-h-ey, wait a second, Syndra!" The man straightened up, closing the distance between them. Syndra whirled around in the air, her purple eyes burning the man. He was considerably larger than her, but he still flinched.

"Follow, and you will cease existence," Syndra said flatly, floating from the room. Her position above the ground allowed her remarkable speed. She reached the final champion hall in less than ten seconds. The Sovereign looked blankly at heavy oak double doors. They vibrated and flew open, striking the walls with an echoing bang. Syndra wasted no time, passing door after door until she found the proper one. The Sovereign looked at it. Riven's eyes snapped upward to the door as Celene's deadbolt undid itself. Her lock clicked and the door flung open, slamming on the wall. The Exile reached for her sword. The weapon jumped from her lap, clattering to floor, scrapping along underneath Syndra's bare feet and into the hallway behind her.

"Where is she?" The Sovereign asked calmly. Riven curled her fingers. The exile realized fighting would be useless; she hardly stood a chance, even with a weapon- the woman could kill her with a nasty look. Riven straightened up.

"She's in the bath. She said she thought you would show up." Riven said dismissively. The woman made her enormously uncomfortable. The Exile's skin prickled as Syndra eyed her, checking for lies.

"Where?"

"She's in the bath-" Celene appeared in a blue flash, pulling her cloak around her dripping body. The Ionian silently thanked Marten for his gift, eyeing the intruder. "Was," Riven corrected her self. Syndra cocked her head. Riven was lifted from her feet and flung into the wall with a crash.

"That is ENOUGH of that. What do you want?!" Celene spat. Her eyes were puffy as if she had been crying. Anger leaked into her voice.

"She is below one as powerful as you." Syndra said, scoffing at Riven. "The ability you displayed on Summoner's Rift," Syndra leaned in, "show me."

Celene looked hard at her. The monster could feel the tendrils creeping out of her fingers under her cloak. She pulled her cloak more tightly around herself. Her eyes narrowed. The blue glow intensified as Celene felt herself seethe. Syndra narrowed hers in return, growing impatient. Riven felt wind on her skin, coming from the monster, but there was no wind. The air was utterly still. A smile crept onto Syndra's face as she felt it to.

_Now?_ A tiny voice in the back of Celene's head asked. Celene inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.

"_No__."_ The sensation stopped. The monster opened her eyes, calmly regarding her intruder.

"Leave."

"Teach me how. Possess me again and show me! How did you do it!? I need to know!" Syndra said, raising her voice.

"You felt it; this is not a battle you can win. Leave," Celene said flatly. The calmness in her tone was unnatural.

"You will lose much that you hold close if you don't teach me," Syndra snarled. She looked directly at Riven. The Exiles hairs stood on end. She didn't move, refusing to admit she was scared.

"But you will lose everything. You don't understand. Memories of you will be erased. Your fortress will cease to exist as your legacy dies without a whisper. It will be like you were never born," Celene said, her tone absolute seriousness. Her hand left her cloak; tendrils snaked around the monster's legs and across the floor like vines as she pinched the sides of her brooch. The two stared at each other for a long moment. Syndra floated an inch or so backward.

"I see." Syndra glared. "Come find me, should you understand your rightful place," The Sovereign spat. All at once the woman dissolved, her body turning to ash from the feet up. The ash swirled in the air. Celene's window flew open, the glass panel shattering as it hit the top of its frame. The cloud of ash was sucked out, disappearing in the evening air and disappearing from sight.

"Riven," Celene said, her tone commanding but friendly. The Exile released a stressed sigh. She looked up at Celene. The monster stared blankly out her doorway. "Are you alright?" Celene asked coolly.

"Yes, I'm unharmed," Riven answered, pushing herself to her feet. The Exile could feel a bruise forming on her shoulder from where she had hit the wall.

"Please leave me alone, I need to reevaluate myself," Celene stated blankly, removing any trace of emotion from her voice. Riven looked at her. The Exile sighed, she understood. Getting to her feet she walked to the door, wrapping her fingers around the knob. "Riven." Riven paused, door in hand. "Thank you. Thank you so much for accepting me for what I am." Celene looked at the Exile flatly, choking out the end of her sentence. The Exile managed a smile and pulled the door shut with a soft click.

**Author's Notes: I always did like Syndra a lot. I just wish she displayed the power she was all about in game better. I think I did a pretty good job here and though pitting her against Celene ****was very hard to write and had to be reworked a few times it was also very fun. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. As always please tell me if I made any mistakes so I can fix them. Thanks!**


	11. Dirty Politics

**Author's notes: Comical warning! This chapter contains Ahri!**

Chapter 11

Dirty Politics

Riven sighed, poking at her food. She wasn't hungry. She was never hungry after a match, and this one hadn't gone well. Her summoner had been inexperienced- as they often were, outside of political matches. Over the course of her time at the Institute, the Exile had noticed it functioned somewhat like a school, plucking mages from anywhere from colleges to minor villages all around Runeterra for all manner of reasons. No one was ever forced to become a summoner, and the League was becoming pickier about who was actually offered in the first place, the count numbering in the hundreds. The summoners that actually saw battle, Riven guessed, numbered two to three hundred at the most. The most experienced and skilled, the ones the Exile saw passing her table, numbered roughly half that.

Riven finally gave up, pushing her plate away. She leaned forward, laying her head on the table. She felt alone and understandably so. Lux had been called away to Demacia. "The College of Magic wanted me to keep an eye on their light magic class while there professor was in the hospital." Lux's voice rang through Riven's memory- her cheeriness was infectious. Riven felt herself smile. Caitlyn had been in Piltover since Vi's practice match, poring over evidence or whatever it was the sheriff actually did aside from sit in the hall and drink tea. Celene hadn't left her room in nearly a month, the only times she was seen was during matches and that wasn't really her. The Exile had been unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of one of her possessions a week before. Riven bit her lip. The only person that actually went out of her way to talk to Riven was...

"Hey, sweet cheeks~."

Riven acknowledged Ahri's existence by raising her head. She looked tiredly at the nine-tailed fox. Ahri smiled, revealing a pair of lengthened canines. The fox leaned across the table, smashing her exposed cleavage against the wood. A pair of summoners paused mid stride as she bent over before moving on when Riven made it clear she noticed them.

"You don't look so good, Riven~." Ahri said, her tone flirtatious, as always. She poked at the slice of buttered bread on the Exile's plate with her finger.

"I just got finished with a match. My summoner was inexperienced," Riven said, glancing away from the fox. "I'm also a bit lonely, with everyone gone," the Noxian grudgingly admitted. Saying the words "I'm lonely" around Ahri was probably a mistake, no matter the context, but even a mistake at this point would keep Riven from stagnating into depression- where she was really dangerous.

Ahri's ears twitched. She leaned in, her smile evolving into a dreamier version of what it normally was. She shifted, rubbing her breasts across the table top in a rather obvious manner. Riven followed Ahri's face as she turned around the end of the table and slid into the chair next to her. She kept her eyes squarely on Ahri's, not allowing any sneaking downwards glances that would show interest.

"I could fix that for you," Ahri teased. Riven ignored her as the fox leaned her head on her shoulder.

"Not like that you can't," Riven said flatly. Ahri knew she wasn't interested. This conversation happened every morning, but Ahri was persistent. The Exile pondered if she simply got enjoyment out of being annoying, like Celene did, or if she thought she could pressure her. Riven would be flattered if Ahri didn't give everyone in the Institute the exact same treatment.

"I didn't hear a nooo~," she teased. She pinning a strand of the Exile's silver hair between her fingers and giving it a soft tug before curling it around her pinky finger. Riven felt her cheeks become a bit hot. It was her charm magic, she reasoned- it had to be. If she looked at Ahri from a distance, Riven found nothing entrancing about her, romantically or sexually. She just wasn't attracted. The Exile poked at the thought for a moment, making a list of people she was actually attracted to. She blinked her yellow eyes, forgetting Ahri was there for a moment. The list was very, very short.

Ahri huffed. Riven smiled at her exasperation. After a bit of practice Riven had learned to counter Ahri's magical tricks- they didn't seem to work if not paid attention. The Exile grinned to herself in victory as Ahri sank into a pout. Her boots met the floor as she stood, grabbing her plate. _I should bring some food to Celene__,_ she thought. After a ponderous moment, the Exile failed to see much that could go wrong and turned to Ahri. Her expression was an impressive combination of sad and frustrated, though Riven was unsure if she was faking. The Exile sighed, deciding to be direct.

"Why do you even bother with me?" A laugh snuck its way into the sentence. Riven bit her lip nervously. She disliked her laugh. The strength of her voice made it sound exaggerated and even fake. Ahri pushed herself upright, leaning forward ever so slightly so Riven could see down the front of her kimono.

"Because it would be fun~," Ahri answered with, flicking her braid with one of her fluffy tails. "And you badly need it." Her tone shifted to utter flatness. Riven couldn't help but smile at the absurdity and scoffed as she placed herself back into the vendors' line, Ahri in tow. Ahri pressed her mouth into a line, placing her fists on her hips. Her ears twitched. "But you're so pretty. Silver hair and yellow eyes! It's unfair." The fox crossed her arms across her chest, her ears flatting against the top of her head as her poster slaked.

"Pretty? I'm more of a work horse, not a stallion. And yellow eyes are very common among Noxians," Riven stated. Her tone had a soft upward inflection, Riven's one and only sign that she was in a good mood.

"And the hair?" Ahri batted her left ear, tilting her head to her right.

"Mine's only white because the Zaunite chemical weaponry burned the color from it. A lot of people here have white hair, and they're all better looking than I am." Riven shrugged, taking a step as the line shortened. The group of summoners in front of them quieted down, listening in on the odd conversation.

"Let me make a list. Ashe is married, Tristana and Poppy are yordles, Syndra is never at the institute and scares me, Diana can't take a hint to save her life and only talks about one thing, Sejuani is never here, Soraka is purple and has a horn on her forehead, and Varus..." Ahri finished dismissively.

"So you do just want to sleep with me." Riven smirked, knowing she had a position of power of the fox in her immunity to her charms. She was free to tease, and despite the harassing nature of the conversation, Riven was enjoying herself. Simple human contact, or in this case, half human, seemed a good medicine for her depression. Ahri straightened her ears, smirking at Riven.

"Well of course. I mean... you're so unique." Ahri gestured outwardly, leaning forward to let Riven know it was a genuine compliment. "I mean, you're strong, talented, and very profound. Someone would have to be crazy not to find you attractive." Riven gave her a look, tilting her head and raising her white eyebrow.

The pair reached the front of the line, the skinny balding Ionian man gave Riven a smirk, their conversation making his day. Riven ignored the look, turning her back on Ahri for a moment. "Well, not everyone has the same interests as you," Riven jabbed. Her voice lacked every ounce of its normal intensity. "Can I get these wrapped?" The Ionian man nodded at her, setting down the plate he had just picked up. He set the sugary Ionian pastry on a sheet of paper, wrapping it quickly before moving onto the next one. Riven nodded and took them, leaving the line.

"What are those for?" Ahri asked. She marched bouncily alongside Riven as the Exile made for the hall. Riven pressed her back against the wood, only for it to be pulled open from the other side by Graves. He nodded at Riven respectfully, holding the door open for her as she had her hands full. Ahri winked at him as she paced, not bothering to look and see what his reaction was.

"These are for Celene. From what I can tell, they make up most of her diet," Riven answered as the door slid shut.

"Oh, we're going to see the tease?" Ahri asked rhetorically. Riven snorted.

"I am, no one is making you," Riven said, catching the hint of distaste in Ahri's tone. "Besides she only acts like that around you because it pisses you off." Riven pushed the neutral champion hall's heavy door open with her knee, sliding through the gap.

Ahri pressed her ears against the top of her head, drooping slightly. "I knowwww~." she whined. "Why does she have to be such a little bitchhh~?" Riven didn't reply, raising her knuckles to Celene's door and giving it a solid rap. Stirring could be heard from the other side- the shifting of heavy fabric and the slam of a large book being closed. The knob twisted and the door swung outward. Celene crossed her ankles on her pillow. She reached over her head and set a very old looking three inch book on her floor, looking at her visitors upside down. The room was dark, her curtains drawn. She looked at Ahri for a moment who was surveying the Ionian's very empty room from her door frame before being pulled inside by Riven.

"Feeling better?" Riven asked, kneeling down and handing Celene the two cakes in her hands. Celene unwrapped one curiously, wrapping it again with a look of delight upon seeing the powdered sugar.

"Much better actually, I think I've got it figured out," Celene said. She rolled right side up, her eyes giving off the softest of blue glows. Riven looked at her pleased, she had been worried. Ahri smiled at her, kneeling down to investigate her book.

"Hunnggg. Good, I was worried. I'm glad you're alright, you've been in here a long time. So what happened?" Riven asked, she was being a bit nosy, but Celene's mood seemed to be able to handle it. What had happened was not really unlike her, but it was unexpected.

Ahri sniffed the cover of the old tome. She put her finger against the yellowing pages where the monster had dog-eared it and flipped it open with a thunk. It was full of runes and symbols the fox couldn't read, the page that wasn't dog-eared was covered in a very detailed illustration of a human hand held in different odd positions, separate by tiny lines of runes, written by hand with swirly, well-practiced shapes.

"I sent a letter to Caitlyn explaining that I was just being an ass and that I was sorry. I got this super long reply from her a few days ago." Celene pointed to the several page long letter sitting unfolded on top of her dresser. "She basically said that she'd been up to her neck in paperwork and interviews. Both the families of the two people that died were rich and threw a huge fit over the "lack of security." It's a mess, but something interesting did happen. The calling card at the crime scene was a fake," Celene finished. Riven blinked, she was familiar with Caitlyn's famous singular unsolved case just from conversation.

"Fake? Why would someone bother faking it?" Ahri asked, thumbing through the heavy book. Celene flipped it shut on her on her fingers, electing a squeak of pain, pulling it onto the bed with her. She slid herself to the side, motioning for the pair to sit. The monster decided not to answer the question.

Ahri hopped onto the bed carelessly, stomach first as Celene sat up cross legged. The fox draped herself across the mattress lazily, patting the space in front of her stomach. Riven begrudgingly took it. "I'd be amazed if you could read anything in that. I've lost track of how old it is," Celene said flatly.

"What is it?" Ahri asked, reaching for the book. Celene pulled it away from her fingers protectively.

"Just some of my old notes," Celene said, looking at Riven.

"Those are notes? That book must weigh ten pounds." Riven raised an eyebrow. She had never seen a bigger book in her life, though books were admittedly never popular with her. She preferred lessons and hands on learn rather than studying.

"Well I didn't use all of it." Celene smirked at her. She pulled the rear cover of the tome open and flipped the two hundred or so blank pages under her thumb before snapping the book shut and handing it to Ahri. "So why are you here?" Celene asked, eyeing the fox.

"I haven't seen you in your natural habitat before and thought it would be interesting. Besides I was following Riven," the fox said. She stretched, extending herself lazily across Celene's covers.

Celene put her hand on top of Ahri's head, scratching through her hair between the woman's fox-like ears. The woman's ears shifted backwards as she entered what resembled a zombified state. She let her head fall forward, burying her face in the blankets. Riven raised her eyebrow at the odd sight. "I was bored. And Riven's no fun," she answered softly, her words muffled. Celene smirked, removing her hand. Ahri whined into the covers before pushing herself upright. She looked at Celene with half lidded eyes, her cheeks a shallow red. Celene blinked, realizing what she'd done. Ahri threw herself on the Ionian. Celene flinched as Ahri laid her weight against her. Riven inched away from the pair uncomfortably. Celene sighed, deeming the advance ignorable; Ahri stuck her tongue in the crux of Celene's collar bone and ran it slowly up the side of her neck to her chin. Celene gasped and disappeared before Ahri reached her lips. Her back pressed against the door with a very uncomfortable look on her face. Ahri lost her balance and toppled to the floor.

A frustrated sound came from the fox as she sat up on her knees. "I know your bi, god dammit, why can't you just let me!?" Ahri whined. Celene cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Ahri," she said slowly, "sex is weird for me, even without Riven less than a foot away." Celene said, gesturing to Earth. The fox looked almost insulted. She crossed her arms, glaring at the Ionian.

"Oh please, as if I couldn't handle Rivipoo also," Ahri growled under her breath. Riven reached for her sword. Celene rolled her eyes. She pushed herself from the door, crossing the room in a stride and throwing herself on the bed.

"I'm flattered, really, I'm actually not bi... I'm pretty sure," Celene said, patting the space beside her.

"So, what are the notes about?" Riven asked much louder then she intended, earning a pair of odd looks. She avoided eye contact, removing her hand from her sword. Celene suppressed a giggle.

"Just old magic," Celene said, tossing the book onto Riven's lap. "You can hang onto it for a bit as long as I get it back undamaged."

"No thank you, I think I'm going to go train. However," Riven said, pushing herself to her feet, "I'm glad you're alright." Riven said with a smile, reaching for the doorknob. The Exile left hurriedly without another word. She closed the door with a final questioning look at Ahri without a sound. Celene heard her sigh and march off down the hall. The monster retrieved her book. The room dimmed noticeably without the soft green glow from Riven's sword and gauntlet. Ahri shifted as Celene opened the book to where she had been and began to read by the dim blue glow of her eyes. She blinked, trying to ignore the fox that cuddled up next to her.

"I'm sorry for the personal question, but... why is sex strange for you?" Ahri asked quietly in the most honest voice she could muster, a hint of concern leaking in. Celene briefly consider clubbing her over the head with her book. She decided the action would case far too much damage- and didn't feel like losing her place.

She sighed. "Because, this isn't my body. I don't have my _own_ body," the monster said flatly. She flicked the hair out of her face. It had grown long enough to hang into her eyes, she noticed as she turned the page.

"Why do you chase tail so much? Don't you have something better to do?" The monster asked coolly, tracing her eyes down the page. She remembered how irritating making the hand gesture she inscribed in the runes was, though it had been a very long time sense she actually had.

"I don't know. It used to be because I was feeding off of people's life force and killing them. Romanticizing it was the only way I could keep going. Now it's because I feel somewhat obligated- people are so happy." Ahri sighed, kicking her feet. "I heard what you did to Katarina- that's why you kissed her, isn't it? To make the experience she was about to have more pleasant," Ahri mused. She propped her head up in her hands, her tails waving through the air slowly. Celene blinked, not expecting the annoying fox to turn the conversation so serious.

"Mhmm. It didn't work as well as I thought it would," Celene said, suppressing a snicker. She couldn't put her finger on why it was funny. "I think..." Celene began, closing her book and looking at the fox. "I think you try too hard, if it really does make you feel better then don't stop but you don't need to harass everyone you meet. They are plenty capable of coming to you." the monster could barely believe how level the conversation was given its topic.

"Heh, it's just when people don't respond to me, I feel like they dislike me. Besides, all the interesting ones say no." Ahri smirked. She reached up and scratched her left ear, causing it to twitch.

"I suppose I can somewhat relate, for some reason the people that don't want me to possess them seem infinitely more interesting than the ones that do," Celene said with a smile, a small spark of heat appearing in her chest.

"Well, it's the closest thing whatever-the-fuck-you-ares have to reproduction. The same strings are probably attached when it comes to instincts," Ahri pointed out, sitting up and cracking her knuckles, earning an investigative look. Celene didn't want to admit it for fear of it sounding strange, but the fox was right, the possession had moments where she craved it. The monster had found that moments like that were when she was the most aggressive on the Fields of Justice. She bit her lip, suddenly less comfortable with herself. She blinked, looking at Ahri as the fox pressed her thumbs carefully underneath the Ionian's shoulder blades and began to rub her muscles. Celene sighed, pressing her chest against her bed in an attempt to starve the heat. She relaxed, her mind sinking back to the yellow valley before she was burned. Massages were a common request from her, though she had avoided them since the incident that ended her lover's life. She fell limp, allowing Ahri more room as she slackened her neck and held her arms over the foot of her bed. The tome dangled loosely from her fingers. Ahri tilted her head, working around the blue tendrils that protruded from the neckline of Celene's cloak. She was motionless. The act continued silently for several minutes, Celene slowly becoming progressively less coherent. "You're good at that…" She groaned, pressing her face into the covers and stretching under the fox's hands.

Ahri blinked, feeling one of the strands between her thumb and forefinger as she rubbed the base of Celene's neck with her other hand. It was smooth and radiated heat. Celene sighed sleepily. The book slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor with a thump.

Celene muttered something incoherent, resembling Ionian as she stared into the blank abyss of slumber. The Ionian's breathing slowed as she dipped into sleep. The fox understood- she was grieving. She had tended to those that lost loved ones before. Often times something as simple as a hug would remind them of their loved ones and either put them to sleep or upset them, depending on the stage of grief. A tinge of pity spiked in Ahri's heart. She pulled her hands away, slipping silently from the bed. She bit her lip, remembering why she wanted to be human. They were so incredibly complex and deep- even the most unlikeable of them had something of a back story. The tendrils seemed to extend upward as Celene readjusted herself comatosely so she was fully on her back. She drew her cloak around herself with a soft sigh, hugging herself. The fox watched the swaying blue fibers for a moment in fascination before letting loose a sigh. She needed a bath, she decided, stealing a final glance before sliding from the woman's room without a sound and closing the door.

–

Caitlyn slammed her head on her heavy wooden desk in frustration. Her hat toppled from her head and lay discarded on top of the report she had been poring over for the last four hours. She had read everything described one hundred times before. The first victim died from a critical injury to his lower body before being decapitated by a sharp object. The autopsy report stated it was likely a wide-bladed weapon, half an inch thick with a straight edge. The second was completely different having suffered five separate severe lacerations to the front of his chest and lower neck. The wounds were torn raggedly, unlike the fine cuts on the first victim. Also, unlike the first the victim's, the cause of death was loss of blood. It was just strange, the two were facing each other but both were attacked from behind. The room in front of the second victim was riddled with thirty five gunshots. Thirty five shell casings were on the floor as well as one unfired round, probably ejected when the weapon was chambered a second time or through a misfire. The Binding Blade of Lito was taken and a calling card left in its wake. Caitlyn already knew all of this, but read this lengthy report out of forced habit, just in case it contained even one thing she did not.

The crime was inconsistent with the others of the same calling card. It was haphazard and lazy, leaving evidence everywhere, whoever did it didn't even bother killing the second guard- the guard who saw him. Why even disguise it in the first place? Why copy? Caitlyn bit her lip, a grim idea coming to mind. What if... the crime was centered on getting her specific attention? The sheriff hurriedly grabbed a note from her drawer. She grabbed her pen, slamming the paper on her desk next to her hat. She leaned, writing down the thought so she wouldn't forget. She clicked her pen and slid the note inside the pages of the report. Caitlyn pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her hat and her rifle.

The sheriff emerged from her office. The station was alive with activity, as it was mid-day on a Saturday. She turned the corner, nodding at a few officers along the way. She sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she peered into the reflective screen of the letter machine behind the stations front desk. She looked utterly exhausted. Massive bags hung under her eyes as the sheriff had been running on heavily caffeinated tea, alcohol and sugar for the last week. The only sleep she had managed is the few moments of unintuitive dozing off at her desk. She didn't want to admit it, but she badly needed a break. The sheriff scolded herself. _I didn't single-hand__ed__ly cleanse Piltover of crime by taking br__ea__ks and __I'm__ not going to catch this guy by taking them either._ She held the power button on the machine. It jittered to life.

"Inform management of crime scene number 348 that I'll be arriving within the hour," Caitlyn spoke to the machine. Her tone was audibly sagging from fatigue. The machine jittered again, a message appearing on the screen. Caitlyn skimmed it, deciding the summary was fine. She pressed then send button and turned to leave. This would be her sixteenth visit to the crime-scene in a month. Normally they would have been extensively hexographed, the evidence removed. Caitlyn had ordered it remain in place, she was positive she was missing something. The sheriff yawned, readjusting her rifle as she pulled the door open to the mini tram that sat waiting for her, called by the letter machine. She was beginning to miss the Institute.

"Please secure your weapon," the tram spoke robotically. Caitlyn unslung her rifle, wincing as her back popped.

"Yes, yes, I know," Caitlyn muttered. She set it in the rack over her seat where it was locked in place. She drew the safety belt across her lap and slammed the door. The tram zipped off without warning along its network of rails, stopping for other trams along the way. The system was vast, but at the moment was an exclusively upper city feature, the latest collective project of the Yordle University of Science and Progress with the establishments of Piltover. It was not available for public or even business use- for the moment it was only available for government and medical applications. Caitlyn was just waiting until they served coffee.

The tram slid to a halt. The circular door opened with a ping, letting the sheriff know they had arrived. The system did not reach all the way to her intended destination, but it was good enough. She left her rifle for when she returned and pushed herself out of the pod-like vehicle, deciding a short walk would be good for her. She zoned off, her brain flirting with different ideas and suppositions involving the case. She made her way up the street. The midday sun stung the woman's eyes. She responded by pulling the hat forward, using its shallow brim as a shield.

Caitlyn pressed her fingers against the glass of the museum's revolving door, flashing her badge to the officer next to it as she pushed herself inside. A quick elevator ride later and she was where she needed to be. A rookie officer nodded at her and lifted the crime scene tape. The site was the same as it had been the last fifteen times. This man and the cop at the door were the only ones. Caitlyn sighed, starting with the bloody mess in the hallway. She paced, being careful not to step on anything. She was stuck. The sheriff wandered back and forth through the crime-scene for an hour, her tuned eyes scanning every inch and every detail a hundred times. She had seen everything. Caitlyn bit her lip in frustration. There had to be something here, nothing added up.

"Cait," a worried voice came from behind her, ripping Caitlyn from her whirling thoughts. It was the chief of police, a tall thin man with neatly cut hair and blue eyes. He frowned at her. The two had been friends for a long time, having gone through the Piltover law enforcement academy together.

"Good to see you," Caitlyn managed. She turned away from him, staring hard at the slip of paper that taunted her from inside the display case.

"Cait, you're an absolute wreck. When was the last time you slept?" He asked, approaching her.

"I took a nap earlier today," Caitlyn lied. She didn't want to worry her friend. He raised an eyebrow at her. Somehow he always knew when she was lying but never said anything. It was somewhat infuriating.

"Go home. You need to get some rest." He put his hand on her shoulder. Caitlyn smirked at him tiredly.

"You can't tell me to do anything- I out-rank you, Chief," the Sheriff teased. He shrugged, rubbing his stubble. He looked tired as well, though not nearly as bad as her.

"I'm bigger then you. Look, as your friend, I think you need to remove yourself from the case. Just for a little, it doesn't matter what it is, but I've been watching you slowly go insane over the past week and I'm worried." He sighed, removing his hand from her. Caitlyn suppressed a yawn. He was right, she needed to stop, her body was screaming at her to stop, but she pressed on through raw willpower. Caitlyn sometimes feared she had too much drive.

"I guess you can have too much of a good thing... I just don't stop," Caitlyn said. She turned to the rookie officer leaning on the wall. "Letter in to get this place cleaned up and have everything sent to evidence," Caitlyn ordered, pushing a yawn away in the middle of her sentence. She removed her hat, shaking her head in an attempt to wake herself up. Her body was having none of it.

"Thank you. Cait, you're not the whole police force, you can't do this by yourself. Just let me and the forensics guys help you out. There may be some clue those ocular implants of yours can't see. Now get out of here," he said cheerfully, exhaling a sigh of relief.

"I need to stop by the station first, my rifle is still in the pod," Caitlyn said, making her way for the elevator. She stepped over the chock outline on the floor. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't worry about it," he said, pinning the elevator door so he could slip inside. "I'll have that new guy get it and bring it to your office. Cait, you need to relax- just turn your brain off for a day, that's all I'm asking," he pleaded. Caitlyn said nothing, giving him an exhausted smile.

"Only if you calm down, Mark." The elevator dinged, signaling they had reached the correct floor. The doors slid open and both stepped to leave. "I've been under much more stress then this- I'm a champion, remember?" Caitlyn blinked, stopping dead in her tracks between the elevator doors, her face stiff. She blinked again, the gears in her brain turning.

"Cait, what's wrong?" Mark stepped around her. He froze as well. The man knew that face. It was the face she made when turning over a revelation.

"What if… What if this has to do with the League? I had a thought earlier- maybe this was set up to get my attention? It's bullshit, I know, but maybe some part of that is right," Caitlyn said, somewhat shocked.

"How on earth did that come up?" Mark looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Caitlyn's expression didn't lift as she thought.

"Shut up and think about it. An Ionian artifact that had two League matches fought over its ownership was stolen, bladed weapons were used against two guards, the crime was lazily done, and the thief left a fake calling card. Mark, that story was suppressed; the only people that know about that calling card are in the League or in the police station," Caitlyn said forcefully, beginning to pace back and forth.

"Wait, are you saying the Ionians did it? Two people died. An act of war, over a sword?" Mark was rubbing his chin, looking at Caitlyn, shocked. He had no way to just tell her she was wrong, neither could say she wasn't.

"It could be them. They have people capable of doing this, but that doesn't fit either, the wounds are too forceful. The Ionians are all about grace with their combat. Those two were practically hacked down," Caitlyn said ponderously. The sheriff was honestly hoping she was wrong. The idea was dangerous.

"Well, if it's not Ionia, that leaves Noxus, Demacia, Zaun, and Bandle City as well as the League of Legends itself. Tech is our biggest clue here- Zaun doesn't seem to fit, neither does Bandle City, and the League itself is all mages," Mark stated. Caitlyn lowered herself to sit on the polished museum floor, propping her head up on her fist.

"We need to look into it, but not in a political manner. We should connect champion abilities to our causes of death and figure it out that way. I honestly hope this is a dead end lead," Caitlyn said gravely. "I need to do some research."

"No, you need to go sleep. I will deal with everything, I promise. I'll update you when you come in tomorrow, okay?" Mark insisted, pulling Caitlyn to her feet and walking her to the revolving door. Caitlyn sighed. He was right. The sheriff pushed her way through to door and out into the noise of the street. Mark was watching her. Caitlyn briefly wondered if he would follow her to make sure she did in fact return to her room at the inn. She decided she was too tired to test it. She smiled at him, removed her hat, and began to walk down the gleaming street towards her room, towards sleep.

–

Swain adjusted himself in his chair. He dipped his crow-feather quill into his inkwell and put it to paper. He despised writing legal letters, they required him to be so specific and took an enormous about of time and energy. The match he had been involved in earlier that day didn't help is deadline. Darius would need this information soon- the general had no way of responding to the Demacian trade letters without it. Swain paused at the end of the fresh sentence, rereading it and dotting the I he had forgotten.

A knock came- soft, by a gloved hand, but with urgency. "Come in," Swain said, looking up. Talon stepped through his doorway, closing the door with his foot. He was dressed in heavy traveling clothes rather than his assassin's garb. He unslung the backpack from his shoulder onto Swain's floor and opened it, withdrawing a long object wrapped in brown cloth and tossing it lazily onto Swain's desk.

"The mission was a success, I did everything you've asked," Talon said flatly. Swain unrolled the object in his lap. A thin silver sword showed itself in his hands. He grinned at progress behind his mask and turned to Talon.

"Very good. You are dismissed," Swain said flatly. Talon nodded, retrieving his bag the man left the room swiftly without a sound, not bothering to close Swain's door. Swain pulled the cloth over the weapon, setting on his desk. He stood, then limped to the door, not bothering to grab his cane. He pushed the door shut with a click.

"Beatrice," Swain called. His crow looked up from her perch on the back of his chair. "Go get Katarina for me, if you will." Beatrice cawed loudly at him, hopping twice to the other edge of Swain's chair then taking flight, soaring out his open window. Swain seated himself again, deciding to finish as much of the letter as he could before his day became even busier. He scowled, losing track of time as he turned off his brain.

A resounding knock tore Swain from his trance. "Come in," he called lazily. The door swung inward, revealing a very disinterested-looking Katarina. She crossed her arms, standing in his doorway, her red eyebrows rising on her brow.

"Yes?" She said sarcastically. Her mood didn't seem to be the greatest.

"Come in," Swain repeated, narrowing his eyes at the irritated assassin in his doorway. Katarina glared, begrudgingly stepping inside the room and pushing the good shut with the heel of her boot.

"YES?" Katarina repeated, her voice rising to dangerous levels. Swain looked at her stoically, deciding to get this over with.

"I have a present for you." Swain wrapped his liver-spotted fingers around the thin cloth-wrapped object on his desk and lazily tossed it at Katarina. She didn't move to catch it. The weapon clattered to the floor, slipping from its wrapping and skidding to Katarina's boots. Her anger disappeared as she looked at the curved, obviously Ionian weapon in front of her. "That is the Binding Blade of Lito. You are to return it to your room and hide it until I tell you otherwise," Swain said blankly. Katarina blinked.

"So you had this thing stolen?" Katarina asked, her tone a mixture of anger and shock.

"Correct," Swain answered flatly, returning to his letter. Quill met paper as Katarina leaned forward to remove the weapon from the floor.

"Why? What the hell do we need it for?" Katarina asked. She spun the blade over her knuckles and into her fingers, getting a feel for the weapon's weight. It was perfectly balanced and considerably lighter than the weapons she used. Closer inspection suggested it was also incredibly sharp. The steel was warm from active enchantments. Katarina finished her inspection, returning the weapon to its brown fabric home and wrapping it up.

"You will see what _you_ need it for soon enough. For now, remove it from sight and speak nothing of it. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise," Swain answered tonelessly, dotting an I.

"What are you so worried about?" Katarina asked, crossing her arms and tucking the weapon into the crook of her elbow.

"It's wise not to give subordinates unneeded information. Dismissed," Swain said.

Katarina tilted her head downward, her eyebrows rising to nearly to her hairline with a smile appearing on her face. "Then why even bother giving me the weapon now? Why not wait until just before I need it?"

Swain paused. He scowled sideways at the assassin who smirked back at him. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Katarina and decided he had worked enough for the day- he was making mistakes. Swain said nothing, only locking his red eyes with Katarina's green ones. The redhead shrugged, spinning on her heel to leave the room. Swain watched her leave, noting his fingers had become more talon-like as anger sparked over his mistake. The Grand General sighed. A tapping on his window tore his attention away from his closed door. Swain was unsure how long he had been staring.

A white dove sat on the man's sill, a full sized letter tied to its leg by a purple ribbon. Swain pushed himself to his feet, retrieving his cane and hobbling to the window. He slid it open, allowing the bird inside. It hopped, holding out its leg in a trained manner, pecking at the feed sitting on the inside of his windowsill. Swain detached the letter, shooing the bird away with his hand before tossing it lazily on his desk, slamming the window and sitting down. The seal of the letter caught his eye as he flipped it over in his fingers. A rose was sealed over the envelope's flap in black candle wax. Swain opened the letter carefully, knowing the contents.

_Order report #148 on December __3__rd__ 22CLE_

_~Leblanc-King Jarvan III's 'Personal High Council Scribe.'_

What followed was a list of detailed orders from the Demacian king, everything from troop movements to the construction of a new bathhouse in the southern district of the city in elegant swirling writing. Swain read and reread the letter. He pulled a new sheet from his desk. The Grand General began to copy the letter, ignoring the introduction. Darius didn't need to know how he was getting the information. Swain finished with a "Stand down and await orders." He folded both letters, making sure to not mix them up he slid his copy into a new envelope. He sealed the letter with the stamp of Noxian High Command and held it out at arm's length.

"Beatrice, take this to General Darius in Noxus. Let nothing stop you," the General said flatly. Beatrice cawed loudly at him, flapping lazily to his desk. She cawed again as Swain fixed the letter to her leg. He stood, opening the window for Beatrice, who swooped out. Swain watched her go before turning around and returning to his desk. He silently slid Leblanc's letter back into its envelope and held it over the blood-red candle on his desk. The letter caught fire. He lazily turned it over, exposing the other corner. It burned in his hand, the wax seal melting. The flame nearly touched the tip of his fingers, burning all but the very corner of the letter before Swain blew it out. He crumpled what was left in his hand and flicked it into his wastepaper basket containing the drafts of the letter he had been writing with a sigh.

–

Lux groaned, shaking her head in frustration. The mage in training in front of her blinked in confusion. He was smoldering softly, the skin on his face felt raw. "What did I do wrong?" He managed slowly, looking at his hands.

Lux put her hands on her hips, trying her best to maintain her showcase smile in the face of the boy's incompetence. He was a farm boy from outside the city, messy, now with scorched dirty blond hair, blue eyes and freckles on his round face. He was short, shorter then Lux by at least four inches. He ruffled his hair, shaking loose soot.

"I can only guess you didn't control your mana properly. It's not mana-fire, it's light. You need to be smooth and consistent, not forceful. Try again- try to let the mana flow into the spell, don't release it in a blast," Lux said in a practiced cheerful tone. She strongly despised tutoring, having learned quickly that it was frustrating, and in the cause of magic, simply outright dangerous.

The boy gritted his teeth, holding his hands out in front of him with his fingers curled inward as if firmly gripping a large ball. He exhaled slowly, a dim glimmer appearing in his hands. Lux forced her smile to grow. "Don't be so afraid of it. Relax and feed it mana- pretend you're watering a plant," Lux said cheerfully. The young mage had heart. She wanted him to pull the spell off, partly so she could finish the session and partly so she could go home and lay down. She blinked. The small glimmering sphere in his hands wobbled uneasily. His eyes widened as he panicked. "Control yourself," Lux urged him, leaning away from the spell. He looked at her for help, holding the spell as far away from himself as possible. It cracked- he closed his eyes and flinched. Lux took a quick step forward, pressing her hand against the unruly cantrip. It stabilized instantly, lighting the room with a dull buzz.

Lux withdrew her hand, pulling the spell from his and holding it casually in her hand. He sighed, dejectedly lowing his head. Lux faked a smile, pushing away her annoyance. "Don't worry about it. Here." Lux grabbed him with the hand not full of buzzing light and pulled his arm to her. She pressed his hand against her right shoulder, knowing he could sense her mana flow.

"I don't understand," he said, frustrated. He stumbled on pronunciation; this was the first school he had ever been to according to his file. "You make it look so easy. Explain it so clearly and I can't do it," he sighed. A frown slipped onto Lux's face.

"Your problem might lie in the very base of how you're controlling your mana flow," Lux said reassuringly. She felt somewhat bad for him though she couldn't relate to the problem he was having, controlling light magic just came so naturally to her. She clenched her fist. The spell exploded into a shower of fluttering prisms that filled the room, they resembled butterflies, flapping haphazardly before fizzling. He groaned. "Can you make mana-fire?" Lux asked, grinning at him cheerfully.

He looked at her blankly and nodded, he snapped his fingers. A foot tall crackling blue flame lit with a bang between his thumb and middle finger. The mage looked at Lux blankly, unsure where she was going.

"Watch," Lux said. She mimicked him; the spell banged into life, fluttered weakly and went out. She tried again, again the flame died undramatically. He looked at her blankly. Lux smiled sheepishly. "I'm somewhat of a specialist, you see, magic is categorized because you do it differently, what you're doing right now is something I can't do. Don't let it bother you, just keep trying it." Lux fanned the fire on his fingertips out with her hand.

"Again," she said, putting her fists on her hip. She rolled her shoulders, enjoying her lack of armor. The boy bit his lip, curling his fingers. He exhaled and the spell sprang into life with a dull buzz. It glimmered brightly in his hands. He exclaimed in joy with a hop, showing the spell to Lux as if he were a young child showing her his favorite toy. The spell wobbled and exploded before Lux could step in, knocking both mages off their feet with a crash. The room filled with smoke as the boy spluttered to his feet. Lux blinked, looking at the ceiling. The door to the chamber slammed open.

"Luxanna! What's going on in here!" The professor of healing screamed, a stern man that Lux swore had never had an ounce of fun in his entire life.

"Tutoring!" Lux yelled back, pulling herself to her feet.

"Oh, carry on." The professor slammed the door.

Lux huffed. "Sheesh, nosy prick," the girl muttered, straightening her hair. The boy looked at her, surprised. She shot him a cheerful smile. "Here, stand behind me and put your hands over my hands so you can feel what I do. You can do this- you just need to control your flow properly, that's the only problem." the boy nodded and obeyed, placing his hands on top of hers. She lazily curled her fingers. The spell sprang to life. "See, just be steady. Breathe." Lux inhaled the word, her back pressing into his chest as she filled her lungs. "Adjust your mana so there are no bumps when you breathe," Lux said smoothly. She exhaled; the spell never wavered, its bright glow making the girl shimmer unnaturally. She ducked from under his arms, handing the swirling ball of light to him as she cheerfully hopped upright in front of him. It stuttered for a moment then stabilized. He controlled his breathing, the spell pulsated uneasily as he inhaled, stilled then pulsed again when he let the breath go. "Good job. I think you got it, try moving it around." He nodded, a smile splitting his face as he twisted one way, then the other, rolling the spell in his hands.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed. The cantrip crackled dangerously. He bit his lip, stabilizing it. "So, uhhh, I was wondering, would you wanna go get something to eat?" His country accent slipped into his speech. Lux put her hands on her hips, raising her thin yellow eyebrows at him.

"How old are you?" Lux asked him suspiciously, a smirk sneaking onto her face.

"Fifteen- sixteen in ten days, actually," he said, the spell had begun to flutter as his attention shifted to her face rather than it. He snapped his eyes back downward. Lux felt a full force smirk fire off at him. For the moment, she was technically a teacher, but despite what she was supposed to stand for, the young Demacian actually cared little for rules- as long as no one knew.

"Consider it a birthday present," Lux said with a grin. She dipped her finger into the spell in his hands. It disappeared with a soft pop, dimming the room. The action sent a shock of mana up the boy's arms. He shivered. "But if anyone finds out, I'll disintegrate you~," Lux finished, lowering her tone. He looked at her in shock, leaning away from the mage stiffly. Lux burst into her unique laughter, causing him to lean farther away. He blinked as she recovered, holding her hand to her mouth. "I'm joking, but I'm not," she said cheerfully. "My brother would probably hang you if he found out."

The boy smirked, cracking his knuckles in a rather masculine manner. "I've had to do my share of fighting while I grew up, I think I could handle your brother." Lux looked at him flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"My brother is the High Commander of the Dauntless Vanguard, and a champion of the League of Legends," Lux said, her voice toneless and flat.

"Oh."

"Yep. Don't try to impress me, please, that's not why I like you." Lux dropped her cheery tone. The effect was rather odd, only adding to the dismissiveness of her speech. He flinched, knowing he'd just stepped on a landmine.

"I'm sorry." He frowned, lowering his head in embarrassment. "Uhh, why do you like me, as you've seen I'm just a stupid farm boy that likes magic?" He asked shyly.

Lux smiled at him, leaning in and lowering her voice. "Because you had the balls to ask me in the first place, even though I'm your teacher."

"You're fucking weird," he said, looking at her sideways.

"I know, I think it has to do with the brainwashing, childhood trauma, exposure to combat, being captured, being a champion, stress, depression, anxiety, hormones, a few chemical imbalances in my brain, brain damage and one amazing, overprotective brick wall of a brother," Lux said at high speed. She inhaled. A set of lights danced on her fingertips as she wiggled them absentmindedly, pacing a circle around the young mage. She sank into a quickly spoken excitedly toned explanation about how Garen used to sword fight with her when she was a child.

"-he would just hold his sword out and let me strike at it with a small wooden yardstick- it terrified mother. I remember this one tim-" Lux blabbed.

"Lux?" The young mage said, pulling her from her endless rant. Lux blinked at him, smiling crookedly. Truth be told, she didn't really want to him getting close to her. It was dangerous for her to allow others near her. She told herself in her head that it he just wanted to hang out with her and put on the most crooked open-mouthed crazy smile she had on her face, leaning in a foot from his.

"Yess?" She said, tilting her head. He leaned backwards, totally unsure what he had gotten into.

"How about you tell me all about it over some pie?" _Fuck,_ Lux thought. She intensified the expression.

"OKAY!" She squeaked, grabbing him by the hand. "But quickly, mother will come looking if I'm late." Lux froze, feeling a tug on her attention. The familiar pull of a summoner's tether tightening in the back of her brain. Lux groaned, earning herself a confused look.

"_Hey Lux!"_Summoner Mathew said cheerfully over the tether. _"__Sorry__ I couldn't w__arn you earlier, supposedly there's__ a minor match in like thirty minutes."_ Lux groaned again as loudly as she could, letting Mathew know she was busy.

"Can I get back to you? I'm in the middle of tutoring a student," Lux said aloud, annoyance leaking into her voice. The young mage looked at her like she was crazy, taking a step backward.

"_I guess__,__ but we do ne-"_ Lux snapped the tether with a cock of her head. She turned around, facing the mage. He looked at her strangely.

"Are youuu okay?" He asked slowly. Lux wondered that herself. It was very easy for her to appear off her rocker- maybe she actually was and could just hide it really well. She pushed the thought away, deciding this was not the best time to determine if she was insane.

"That was the League," Lux said flatly. The mage's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Lux.

"What was the League?" He asked slowly, utterly confused. Lux rolled her head backwards, looking at the ceiling, forcing her smile to stay attached to her face. The effect was likely more creepy then cheerful, but Lux couldn't be bothered to care anymore. She just wanted to go home, hug her mother, disappear into her room and read. She briefly wondered why she hadn't just said no to the boy.

"They can talk to you through this mental tether thingy- it's hard to explain. Either way, supposedly I have a match to attend in thirty minutes," Lux explained hurriedly. The farm boy blinked non-comprehensively.

"So, what you're saying is you actually don't want to go eat with me, and you were just being nice..." the mage said in a defeated tone. Lux sighed heavily.

"Nooo, that's not it, I have responsibilities I have to deal with. You understand, right?" Lux pleaded, feeling guilt rising in her heart. The boy frowned at her, crossing his arms. "Tell you what. Tomorrow?

"Okay. Tell your... people not to whisk you away while you're eating," he said, a smile emerging on his face. Lux nodded at him

"_Ready?"_ Mathew sprang up.

"_Yep,__"_ Lux replied mentally. With a flash, blue rings appeared around her, her hair lifting as if blown upward as runes wrote themselves on the floor. The mage jumped backward in surprise. Lux stretched, shooting him a smile as the summoner's ring filled the room.

"You should watch, you might find it enlightening. Maybe you'll realize how crazy I am," Lux said cheerfully. She leaned forward, showing him her perfect white teeth before disappearing with a whoosh, leaving the room in utter silence. The boy leaned back, putting his hands on his hips as papers fluttered to the ground, leaving the room in chaos. He whistled.

"_Why do you label your__self as crazy?"_ Mathew said as Lux floated in limbo.

"_I don't know, it makes me feel like I'm interesting."_

"_S__o what did he want?"_ Mathew asked.

"_H__e was flirting with me__-__ he wa__nts to go out and eat something,__"_ Lux replied, kicking her foot against the nonexistent ground

"_S__hould I be jealous?"_ Mathew joked.

"_Don__'__t be silly__,__"_ Lux replied mentally with a smile.

–

Celene awoke with a start. She blinked as something tugged at her attention. _"Celene, i__t__'__s Werhan. Would you mind if I summoned you for a match?"_

"I was asleep. What time is it? When?" Celene answered, dazed. She honestly didn't mind, unable to think of any other way to spend her day.

"_I__t__'__s four in the afternoon. The match is in thirty minutes. You__'__r__e__ against Lux. Why the fuck were you asleep at four?" _Werhan said flatly- he sounded like he was being pressured.

"What's the match for?" Celene asked, pushing herself from her bed.

"_Laughs__,__ I guess__. P__ractice." _Werhan's tone lifted._ "__I__f you want me to ask someone else I can." _Celene's mind flicked over, trying to think of someone Lux could beat. She didn't like facing the girl, even if she was being piloted. The monster had possessed Lux a second time over the past month and even though she was instantly dog piled and killed afterwards, she still felt guilty. She decided not to ruin whatever mood Lux was in.

"_S__orry, I need to eat something or __I'__m going to pass out. You could try__ someone unorthodox. Maybe Ashe,"_ Celene suggested with a snicker. Lux's long range spells should give her an easy match against the less than mobile archer. Werhan knew this.

"_Stop trying to throw games for me. Don't worry, I'll find someone."_ He snapped the connection, leaving Celene alone. The monster sighed, snickering to herself softly as she made for her door. Her destination was the dining hall- food, free entertainment and bloody combat on her mind as she turned her knob. Celene briefly wondered how much the summoners just held battles to practice. It felt a bit cruel to hold battles with real lives for fun, but she couldn't really say how sane any of the summoners really were. On top of that, Werhan had asked her, meaning that champions that didn't agree morally wouldn't attend. Celene pondered the morality for a moment before shutting her brain off. She honestly just wanted to cheer as Lux melted somebody, much to Werhan's dismay. She smirked, striding for the hall, her billowing cloak at her heels.

**Author's Notes: Just the normal blah blah blah point out errors or things I could improve on. I wanted a lot of this chapter to take place outside of the League, coming with a lot of filler. Hope you Enjoyed it!**


	12. Some Things Need to be Said

**Author's Notes: Before anything I want to thank FishSlayer. This amazing person was nice enough to provide me with a much more well drawn cover photo. R&R as always. I love reading them. Enjoy.**

Chapter 12

Some things Need to be Said.

Celene burst her head from the water with a gasp, sending a ripple that fled to the edge of her bathtub and rebounded backward. The Ionian shook her head, sending droplets of water everywhere. Celene couldn't remember the last time she had had a private tub that she could swim in- with running water, no less. Some things about the League were nothing less than luxury. The monster grinned, stretching her small body out completely in the steaming water. She sank into a relaxed trance, staring up at her ceiling. The small woman sank lower in the water, submerging her nose. She grinned softly. _I am Celene, the body-snatching crocodile,_ the Ionian mused.

"Celene!" The feminine voice carried through her door followed by a knock. The monster recognized Ahri's flirtatious tone. "It's your friendly neighborhood problem solver, open uppp~." Celene blinked.

"I'm in the bath," Celene called back. She sighed; her relaxing had ended for the moment. She sank back into the water, a blue tendril extended out and wrapped around her towel. The Ionian let out an exasperated breath, culminating a few large bubbles before lifting herself from the water.

"Ohhh~" Ahri responded. Celene could practically see the grin on her face. The monster dried her hair with a shiver. She moved on to drying her legs hurriedly. She wanted to be dressed before Ahri got impatient and barged in, but she also didn't want to wet her kimono, the only object of clothing in her possession that remained clean.

The door clicked open. Celene smiled to herself, pulling the kimono over her shoulders. Ahri thought she was being stealthy. The monster could clearly hear the soft tap of her sandal as it touched the tile floor. Celene finished just in time, hearing the second sandal tap that signified Ahri was completely in her room. She wrapped her fingers around the wooden chair that stood in front of her mirror. It had always felt unnecessary, but Celene never complained; she would likely be rid of it now anyways. She disappeared, the chair following behind her after a moment of disassembly. The monster appeared in the hallway, taking a step and closing her door with a soft click. Ahri whirled around, halfway to her bathroom as the door shut. Celene wedged the chair underneath her doorknob, dusted off her hands casually and made for the dining hall.

Ahri poked her head into the bathroom, finding it to be devoid of Ionians. She blinked suspiciously, trotting back to the door. The knob turned, but the door didn't budge. Ahri tried again. The door remained firmly in place. The fox flicked her eyes around the room. It was barren compared to hers, a wasteland with nothing to offer her help. The window wasn't an option, as it was raised forty feet above the garden. Ahri turned the knob. She could hear the latch click out of place. _So it isn't stuck, but __the door won't budge._ The fox thrust her shoulder into the door. It stubbornly resisted her. Ahri was astonished. _What did Celene do?_ This was never a problem she would think to encounter and she wasn't built to solve it. The fox sighed. _What a bitch, _she thought, slamming her shoulder into the door again.

Riven took a bite of the apple in her hand, watching the monster carefully walk across the hall. The sight was strangely amusing, watching Celene reduced to the basics; one foot in front of the other. The girl reached her after a moment of ponderous traveling, sitting down across from the Exile carefully.

"Where's Ahri?" Riven asked, taking another bite of her apple. She tossed the fruit and caught it boredly.

"Going through the seven stages of death, I would assume," Celene said with a grin. Riven caught the apple a final time, holding it stiffly in her hand as she crossed her arms, putting her elbows on the table and leaned in over them.

"What did you do? I sent her to get you because she was annoying me," Riven asked, raising an eyebrow. The Ionian snorted to herself before breaking into a fit of cackling. Riven felt a tad worried. Whatever it was, Celene clearly thought it was very funny.

"I actually think you should see it before someone lets her out. Come on." Thin fingers closed around Riven's wrist.

"Lets her out? Wha-" Celene was on her feet before the Exile knew what was happening, hauling her forcibly to from her chair. "Come on, hurry up," Celene said between giggles, pulling Riven with both hands to her feet. The Exile stumbled as Celene marched pigeon-toed from the hall, Riven in tow. The Exile barely had time to pull her sword from the tabletop before she was dragged away. She wasn't keen on leaving it alone or being without it. She tried to wrench her arm from Celene's. The Ionian smirked at her, drumming her fingers on the Exile's wrist, allowing her to see the blue fibers coiled around her under the monster's hand. Riven sighed, leaning her head back as they turned the corner from the hall. The summoners below them paused, shooting the pair strange looks as Celene slammed her shoulder into the double doors. They parted begrudgingly for her, allowing passage. Riven blinked, confused. Spotting the chair wedged against Celene's door. The monster released her, putting her fingers to her lips. Riven raised her eyebrows shocked, trying not to laugh. The door jolted, a feminine squeak coming from behind it as a body was thrown against the improvised barrier. Defeated whimpering could be heard from the other side. Celene stepped out of her sandals, laying a blue fiber several inches off the ground in front of the door and silently removing the chair.

Riven watched in stunned silence as the door flew open. As Ahri came charging shoulder first out of the room, her foot caught the blue tendril. She tumbled with a surprised yelp onto her back, staring straight up as the ceiling. Celene set the chair down with a thunk of wood against tile, a leg on either side of Ahri's head. She seated herself, leaning forward and looking the fox in the eyes.

"What did we learnnnnn?" The Ionian girl teased passed a mischievous grin. The Exile had quickly learned that Celene's most dangerous looks were the small smiles, not the large ones. As she burst out laughing, the power in her tone carried her laugh the length of the hall, returning as an echo.

Ahri decided silence was the best answer, deciding to respond instead with an annoyed scowl. Celene smirked at her, satisfied. The Ionian pushed herself to her feet, picking up the chair. She took a few unnaturally short steps and tossed it into her room with a rather loud crash. The tendril that had tripped Ahri flicked up to close the door before receding back into the girl's sleeve.

"So, why did you ask her to get me?" Celene asked Riven, watching Ahri get to her feet and brush herself off.

"Well, I was going to tell you what Marten told me today, before he threw me under a fed Darius. Supposedly Caitlyn is on her way back with a bunch of questions," Riven finished, adjusting her footing.

"Questions? Why would she have questions for the League?" Celene asked. She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. "The only thing I could think of is… Maybe her evidence led her back here?"

Riven began to pace. "If that's the cause, this could be rather uncomfortable," Riven stated. She looked her sword over, bored.

"Come now, Riven. Haven't you ever wanted to be a motivated and _sexy_ detective, kicking in doors in a never-ending search for evil?" Ahri teased. Riven pointed her sword at the woman in a threatening manner. Ahri blew a kiss at her, trotting past Celene who snickered and followed to the best of her ability. Riven sighed heavily, lowering her weapon. Celene seemed to be in a particularly meddlesome mood and Ahri was… well, Ahri. Riven wasn't sure which would get to her first. She decided to follow anyways. Regardless of what happened, the pair were the only stimulating things in the entire Institute today, and the Exile would take annoyance over boredom and stagnation instantly. She put a soft smile on her face. At least no one she disliked would come bother her with Celene _and_ Ahri at the same table. Riven let herself lag behind, sinking into a dull trance. The conversation and tapping of shoes slipped her attention and she zoned off into exile.

"CAITLYN!" Someone yelled excitedly. Riven was shocked back to the world just in time to see Celene vanish. The woman reappeared after a moment, less than a foot from Caitlyn's face. The Sheriff and her chief of police both screamed in surprise, startling several summoners around them. The Exile jogged to the banister, setting her sword on it with a dull scrape and leaning over.

Caitlyn exhaled, taking a moment to recover. Celene smiled at her. The woman looked like she hadn't slept in several days. With a cranky sigh, Caitlyn said, "Hello. Celene, this is my Chief of Police." Caitlyn gestured. "Mark this is Celene, one of the more terrifying people I have ever met." Celene offered her hand, giving the man a predatory grin to reinforce Caitlyn's introduction. The Chief of Police took her hand and kissed it in standard Piltover custom. Caitlyn sighed, rolling her head across her shoulders.

"If I don't eat something, I'm going to fall over and die. May we?" The police chief asked, gesturing for Caitlyn to take the lead. The man had clearly never been to the Institute in his life; he panned his head around, taking in all the interesting sights the Institute put before him, the magic mana-fire torches, the odd champion leaving or entering a hall, the summoners staring at him questioningly and talking amongst themselves as the pair began to walk.

Celene decided she didn't want to navigate the stairs in her kimono and vanished. She put her fingers on Riven's shoulder, grabbing the Exile's attention. "Who's she with?" Riven asked, drumming her fingers on her sword as the two began to climb the stairs.

"The Chief of Police, she said," Celene answered. "Where's Ahri?" Riven looked around, noticing the lack of nine-tailed fox behind her. She answered with a shrug. Celene deemed the answer acceptable, keeping her eyes on the man as Caitlyn reached the top of the stares. The two had clearly known each other for a very long time, they chatted cheerfully despite Caitlyn's exhausted state. Celene gave Caitlyn a look, letting her know that she had been drafted into sitting with Riven and the Ionian.

The party rejoined, introducing Riven, who said nothing and made their way into the dining hall. The massive room was very empty compared to how it normally was, making Ahri even easier to spot. She waved from a table near the Ionian food vender. "So you've converted her into a regular while I was away?" Caitlyn asked. Celene shrugged at her. The pair walked in silence for a moment, broken only by snickering as Celene tripped over her feet. Riven caught her, pulling her upright.

After seating themselves, Riven offered to get everyone food. She felt anti-social in the presence of a new face. Sighing, she strode off steadily, leaving her sword on the table as she would need both her arms. "So, what's your name?" Ahri asked, leaning across the table with half-lidded eyes. The man leaned back away from her. Ahri pushed herself against the tabletop, challenging herself. The fox wanted to see if she could make the Piltover man fall out of his chair. His eyes flicked to Caitlyn's for help. She gave him a dull smile before shifting attention to Celene, whose smile was touching her ears, exposing teeth.

"You'll get used to that," Riven said quietly, returning to the table with plates nimbly balanced on her arms. She spread them out between the group members, removing Ahri from the way with a push of her boot, sliding the girl's chair several feet, much to her discomfort. She latched onto the seat.

"I told you on the way here there would be antics. It's the only way to amuse yourself with so little to do," Caitlyn said. She decided on the plate coated in slabs of pork and slid it in front of her.

"You actually missed the best of them so far be only a few minutes," Celene said, suppressing a laugh the memory. The Ionian reached across the tabletop towards the plate of sugary pastries Riven had gotten just for her. The Exile finished, distributing the silverware she had tucked into her belt around the table and planting herself between Celene and Ahri. She jammed a carrot into her mouth.

"That wasn't funny! I was scared!" Ahri whined, her ears flat against her head as she sulked. The fox hopped her chair back into place childishly, reaching for the plate Celene had pulled in front of her. Celene shot her an annoyed look as Ahri snagged one.

"You're rather good at serving a table," Celene pointed out, talking with her mouthful.

"Thank you, I had to spend a decent amount of time waiting tables while I was... traveling," Riven answered, her tone dipping depressingly towards the end of her sentence. Celene swallowed.

"I see. Did they ever make you wear anything… interesting?" Celene asked her, suppressing a smile. Conversations always felt somewhat like fishing. Celene had baited her hook and cast her line. Riven bit with a dangerous amber-eyed scowl over her carrot. Celene leaned back, deciding the topic was a taboo out of respect. Caitlyn suppressed a snicker by shoving a slice of pork into her mouth.

"So, uhh, what do you all do around here? I feel stupid asking, but I honestly don't dabble in politics at all," the Piltover man questioned.

"HEY~! It's the fun table, all awake and eating without me," Marten said cheerfully, slamming his hands on the table top. Riven jumped, not having spotted him. The summoner gave everyone a grin. "good to see you back officer." Marten said, more quietly with a smile.

"Ah, I wish it wasn't related to work, though sadly it is. I was meaning to talk to you, Elder Summoner," Caitlyn said tiredly. She sighed, drumming her fingers against the table. "We think a champion from the League may be involved in the murders in Piltover. We will need access to any documentation that might give us a motive or some kind of evidence; history, experiences, fighting styles... reflections." Caitlyn squeezed the humor from her tone, letting Marten know she was very serious. The officer inhaled, releasing a long sigh of dread. "We may also need to investigate the League of Legends itself, should anything we find lead us in that direction... I'm sure you understand," Caitlyn said gravely, putting the elder summoner in a political arm bar. Marten rubbed his chin ponderously.

"Just how many of our champions' confidential files will you be sifting through, Caitlyn?" Marten asked slowly, dread dripping from his tone. What was coming promised to be a nightmare.

"That's the thing... all of them. Two people have died. I need to see them all if the murderer is to be brought to justice."

"How do you know that these murders are connected to the League?" Marten asked.

"I have a report for you to read, if you would like," Caitlyn said. The Chief of Police reached into the backpack on his lap, pulling an inch thick file from its depths and handing it to Marten, who groaned in dread. The man began to thumb through the file, his old eyes skimming line after line.

After a few minutes of tense reading, Marten closed the file and tucked it under his arm. "Very well... Allow me to arrange you access to the archives. Please, come with me," Marten said, his tone cold. Caitlyn sighed again, looking away from the summoner as he marched off. The table was silent as the group departed. Celene placed her cake on her plate, not feeling very hungry.

–

Marten scratched the back of his head, reaching inside his gray hood to do so. He had been standing in the same spot for nearly two hours. Though he liked to think of himself as a patient man, standing still and watching two people thumb through a long set of magical archives, or rather the same enchanted book containing all of the information on every champion available to the League of Legends, was very boring. Marten wracked his memory. To his knowledge, this was the first time anyone outside of the counsel looked at the book important enough to get its own room- a small room with a single hextech bulb hanging from the ceiling and a simplistic podium, but its own room none the less.

The two pored over the leather bound object. The chief of police looked rather bored while Caitlyn had her nose wrinkled, reading intently. Marten craned his neck, attempting to see where the pair was in the book's self-writing pages. With one hundred and nine champions currently in the League, each with anywhere between ten to forty pages of information on them, the summoner couldn't help but look and see how much longer he would be standing over the pair.

"I think this is our guy," Caitlyn said slowly. Marten leaned in. _Talon, the Blade's Shadow_ was written neatly in the top left corner of the page in small letters, perfectly uniform but elegant. The summoner's jaw dropped.

"What do we do...? He's a subordinate of Noxus, following Swain's orders. If Swain ordered this, it's an act of war?" The police chief said under his breath. It didn't take a marksman's eyes to see both he and Caitlyn were sweating.

"What scares me is why he wants the weapon in the first place... We can't make unfair judgments like that; we're officers of the law. According to this, Talon is a privateer loyal to General Du Couteau, who is missing and has been for a long time. We have no proof that Talon is following Swain's orders, nor do we have proof that Swain ordered the weapon's theft and the two murders or even evidence to support that it was Talon in the first place. At the moment he's just a suspect," Caitlyn muttered, taking a deep breath to come her nerves. She sighed. "Marten what do you think?" The sheriff looked at him honestly. Marten had known the woman's father, he was a transferred mage of the court before becoming a summoner and had known Caitlyn since she was a little girl.

Marten shrugged. "I'm not obligated to say. Just do what's best for Piltover; I would prefer you didn't start a war. As much as I hate to say it, being the leader of a powerful city state with an army that is ready to die for you on your right and the most skilled assassins in the world on your left gives you a bit of immunity to the law," Marten said grimly. "However, if you can prove that this is linked to Swain, take it directly to me and I'll have it dealt with. As for Talon, let's hope he just stole the damn weapon for resale. I will have them investigated based on what you've given me and get back to you," Marten finished with a huff. The elderly man put his hands on his hips, giving his neck a solid crack.

"When can this happen?" Caitlyn asked, biting her lip. Marten adjusted his posture, leaning his back against the wall with a groan unique to old men.

"A few days at the soonest. I would need to talk to the High Councilors. You might need to present them with your case before they approve much of anything. You need to understand, Caitlyn, this is getting out of my area of authority. I just deal with the public stuff," Marten said with a stressed sigh, twiddling his thumbs. Caitlyn wasn't sure if it was a nervous tic or if the elder summoner was just bored. With Marten it was hard to tell.

"Elder Summoner, if you could bring this to me in Piltover, I would greatly appreciate it. I would like to be able to act accordingly with the public on my end and remove this from Caitlyn's neck," the Chief of Police said thoughtfully. Marten noted with a hint of amusement that he sounded a lot like Graves.

"What do you mean, 'from my neck'?" Caitlyn asked with a scowl.

"For some reason if this goes horribly wrong, me losing my job doesn't really harm Piltover's political stance. You're a different story, being a representative."

"Quit being so noble. Nothing is going to go wrong," Caitlyn said sternly. Marten grinned, watching the two bicker was amusing, even more so than normal due to his raging boredom.

"We wear bullet proof vests, not because there's a shooting every day, but because one of us might fuck up. In case that happens, no one dies," the Chief of Police said with a smirk. Caitlyn looked at him sourly, knowing he had bested her.

"Make sure you have what you need before you present your case to the high council. If you fuck up I could get in trouble for letting you in here." Marten warned from the side of the room, braking up the staring contest in-front of him.

"I've been doing this a long time, trust me, I won't," Caitlyn said with a confident smile.

"Thank you, Marten."

Marten raised a wrinkled finger. "One more thing. This will not go public, understand?" The man warned. Caitlyn completely understood, public knowledge of the motivations could cause all sorts of trouble for everyone. She nodded in response. "Now if you'll excuse me for just a moment, I need to grab a chair," Marten said, the spring returning to his voice. Caitlyn relaxed, turning back to the book.

–

A knock resounded through the Grand General's room. The sound was soft against the hard wood, not performed by the strongest hands. Swain shifted his red eyes to the door. He recognized that knock. "Come in Wilhelm," Swain said, his voice cracked. The General cleared his throat, realizing it was dry. The door slid open. Summoner Wilhelm leaned his head around the door frame, his mousy face scanning the room, looking nervously at Swain before stepping inside and snapping the door shut. The man, no older than twenty, was red faced and breathing heavily as if he had been running.

"Trouble, Grand General. Caitlyn and her Chief of Police arrived a few hours ago. They have evidence that the theft of the Ionian weapon had League involvement," Wilhelm whispered, not allowing his voice to carry out of the room. Swain motioned with him to continue with his hand. He took a deep breath, putting his hand nervously on his brow. "Marten let them into the reflection archives; they're in there now scouring all the files for suspects, there's no way this can't lead back to us. We'll be discovered!" Swain had never heard someone panic so quietly in his life.

The Grand General stared ponderously at the man for a moment, rubbing his chin with his hand. He shifted his eyes to Beatrice whom sat perched on his shoulder. The large crow cawed, to which Swain nodded in agreement. "Good work. Well, an investigation is inevitable at this point, as I thought it would be." Swain pushed himself to his feet. "Not to worry, though, I'm five steps ahead of them." Beatrice cawed at the summoner in front of Swain, causing him to flinch.

"What are your orders then…?" Wilhelm asked tentatively; a wrong intellectual step around Swain was very dangerous to one's well-being. Swain seemed to stare off into space for a moment, his eyes focused unblinkingly on nothing.

"Ah, so obvious," Swain muttered to himself, a small smile gracing his lips behind the gray face wrap. Beatrice lifted her wing, pruning the feathers underneath with her beak. "I need your assistance, summoner." Swain said listlessly, his red eyes falling to the shorter man in front of him. "First off, stop cowering like a worm; you are a Noxian, act like it." Wilhelm blinked, forcing himself upright, leveling his face to the best of his ability. Swain stoically brushed off a scoff; he briefly considered killing the man, but decided better of it. "Now contact LeBlanc, if you please. Relay these orders. 'Cover your tracks as you see fit and report to me.'" Swain tapped the floor with his cane. Wilhelm nodded.

The summoner closed his eyes in focus for a moment. He reopened them, blinking several times as he engaged in a mental conversation. "She will leave as soon as she's able," Wilhelm said quietly, looking at Swain as levelly as he could.

"Good. Now, scurry off and leave me to my work. No one finds out understand or the... well, I don't need to waste energy coming up with threats, you know what will happen if mistakes are made," Swain said impassively to the summoner him blinked nervously, his adam's apple shifting uneasily. "Dismissed."

Wilhelm gave a short hurried bow and spun on his heel. He marched from the room as cooly as he could, doing his best to hide from Swain his imitate heart attack. 'Fool.' Swain thought to himself, returning to his chair and to his thought.

"Insure LeBlanc arrives safely and without any delays, will you?" Swain asked the crow, his voice shifting from stoic to friendly. Beatrice cawed, extending her wing and shakily taking flight. With another caw she swooped from Swains window and out of sight. Swain sat in silence for a long moment. The gears of war turned in his head.

–

Katarina's boots struck the floor of the summoning chamber with a heavy thunk. Control of the woman's body resumed as the Institute's tame air met her nose. Katarina exhaled slowly, returning her weapons to their homes. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding. Cheering met her ears as the summoners celebrated, throwing themselves excitedly against Werhan. Wiles slapped him hard on the back. "NICE JOB. That was some of the best control I've seen." Wiles said with a smile. The assassin smirked. They acted like it was a game.

Werhan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't think I did that good, guys, calm down," Werhan said shyly, pulling his shoulder from Beyal's hand.

Beyal smirked at him. "Dude, you did great, give yourself some credit. You carried my sorry ass, I can't top for shit," Beyal commented, waving apologetically at Teemo as the yordle hopped to reach the doorknob, shooting Beyal a forgiving smile.

"No, really, you guys don't understand, that was all her," Werhan said defensively, pointing to the gore coated assassin in front of them. "She was bossing me around so much you wouldn't believe, go here, kill that guy, kill this guy," he smiled, looking at Katarina. The woman eyed them flatly. The shape of her face and reputation made the flat expression look more like a glare.

"Have fun?" Werhan asked the woman. Katarina looked at the group in silence. The cheer in the room slowly died as the look never faltered.

"You act like this is a game, hopping about like children when you win," Katarina scolded. Everyone but Beyal seemed to shrink backward away from her. Miss Fortune spotted the trouble, sliding silently from the room and leaving the group alone with the assassin.

"When I first came here, I thought of it like that, like it was some game we played carelessly with people's lives," Kathrine said quietly from the rear of the group. Everyone's eyes fell to the short, round faced woman. She locked eyes with Katarina without a waver, her face solemn. "It's not a game; games are for people that don't care enough. It's an art, it's a science, it's politics and it's war. Why do you think we got so talented? We want to protect what's fair in Valoran, to do that we need to be the best. Today was just practice to ensure we could do it again tomorrow if need be." Kathrine stepped from the group, approaching Katarina. The assassin stood a head taller than her and stared down at the soft faced woman. "Thank you for helping Summoner Werhan improve."

Katarina gave the woman a thin smile, crossing her arms at her chest. She flicked her blood-coated hair out of her eyes. "That was very brave," she said, somewhat impressed. Kathrine smiled.

"Hopefully this wasn't as much of a chore for you as supporting my loser carry was for me," Kathrine said with a tiny smirk. Wiles throw his arms over his head.

"Wanna fight?" He teased.

"I'd whip your ass." the small woman said softly. She gave Katarina a playful smile and made her way for the door. Jura patted Werhan on the back. The group dispersed, laughing amongst themselves. Beyal stuck for a moment at the doorway, waiting for the assassin.

"What are you staring at, pudgy?" Katarina jabbed at him. Beyal smirked at her, halfway out of the door.

"You look good like that," Beyal said flatly, pinning the smirk behind his back and hoping she wouldn't see.

"Like what? There's blood in my mouth that isn't mine." Katarina narrowed her eyes at him. She spat, the liquid lased with red splattering against the stone floor. Beyal raised his eyebrows.

"It's a look I associate with success," the summoner said flatly, electing a single laugh from the woman.

"You? Imagine how I feel. This is just how I keep score." Katarina gestured to herself, flicking red flecks from her fingers in the process.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself, then?" Beyal asked, the smirk sneaking onto his face.

"Are you joking? I feel alive." Katarina inhaled deeply though her nose, a content smile on her face. Her mood was incredible, as it often was after such matches. "I'm honestly surprised this doesn't bother you."

Beyal shrugged. "Whoever said I was the most morally even person? I take interest in you and if you like stabbing people then you're in the perfect place to do so," the summoner said with a laugh.

"What's victory smell like, Beyal?" Katarina asked.

The summoner leaned himself against the doorframe, pulling his hood back. "Well... Fresh enchantments and cheers, and you?" Beyal looked at her, his messy hair hanging into his eyes without the control of his hood.

"Iron," Katarina said with another deep breath.

"You're totally insane, I hope you know that," the summoner said flatly. Katarina looked at him with a grin.

"Thank you, it runs in the family." Katarina marched passed him, sneaking a smirk at the summoner's she stepped over his foot. She disappeared with a puff, leaving only purple smoke. Beyal looked around, she was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged with a smile on his face, deciding he was hungry. Pushing himself from the doorframe, he began to walk quickly, attempting to catch the rest of his group that rounded the corner at the end of the hall.

Beyal walked in silence. He remembered the night of their date, grinning he looked over his shoulder. The hall behind him was utterly devoid of life. He returned to his coarse, walking in smiling silence for a few moments before reaching the closed door that would take him to food. His hand fell to the latch. Something caught the man's purple hood. Beyal blinked, grabbing the garment and giving it a shake. A weight shifted in his hood. He raised an eyebrow. After a moment of uncomfortable over the shoulder fishing his fingers closed around the object. He blinked, holding the thin, blood-coated throwing knife between his fingers. The summoner looked up at the doorframe arching above his head. No Katarina. He spun around, scanning the hall- again, no Katarina.

"Do you do this all the time?" Beyal asked loudly. No response came. He blinked. _She must really like me__;__ she could stab me at any moment__,__ but __she's__ not,_ he thought to himself with a smile. Why the idea was comforting, he didn't know. The summoner pocketed the knife, deciding not to think too hard about it. The door closed behind him leaving Katarina alone in the hallway. She smirked. "Oblivious," she muttered aloud, turning for her room. Best to get the blood off before it dried.

–

Werhan sank his teeth into his victory pork with a grin. The table laughed and talked amongst themselves. Werhan said nothing, too busy stuffing food into his face.

"Jura, your face! Your face when Kassadin just showed up," Wiles shouted excitedly. He put on the most horrified expression he could muster. The table burst into fits of laughter. Beyal wiped his eyes with his sleeve, arriving just in time to have Jura subdue him with fits of giggles.

"And where were you?" Wiles spun around, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Talking to Katarina," Beyal said levelly, not allowing his teammate to embarrass him.

"So, is the marriage going to be at the Institute or in Noxus?" Kathrine asked quietly. Beyal stared at her. The woman smirked at him. There was a silent pause.

"No wedding," Beyal said flatly. He couldn't help but smile as he pulled up a chair.

"That would be a rather interesting relationship," Jura pointed out with a smirk, jabbing at Beyal with his fork from across the table.

"Oh baby~, oh baby~, you make me kill so good," Werhan spoke over his slab of ham. Beyal slammed his face into the table top, suppressing hysterical laughter. Everyone else made no such attempt at control and surrendered. After a moment of immobilizing hysteria, the five young summoners began to recover. Beyal felt stupid for laughing so hard- the joke wasn't really that funny.

"What's all of this about?" A familiar voice carried over the group. Marten stood over them all with a smirk on his face. He looked tired, more tired than normal.

"Beyal has a thing for stab-happy redheads and we're laughing at him for it," Wiles said with a smirk. Marten blinked, putting the puzzle together before smiling slyly.

"What's funny is that Beyal was talented enough to make that kind of relation possible while Wiles, the lady's man dare not attempt the same," the elder summoner said slowly, locking eyes with Wiles. The Piltover man raised an eyebrow.

"But-"

"Ahri doesn't count," Marten added snarkily. Wiles glared.

"So why are you here anyways? I thought you were keeping an eye on Caitlyn and her lackey," Jura asked. The man began to slide the slab of meat in front of him with the edge of his fork.

"Well, they finished. I was on my way to see the high counselor, and then end my life, but then I saw elder summoner Parrish with Annie and wanted to make sure no one died," Marten said, leaning on the back of Werhan's chair. He motioned with his head off to his left. Sure enough, the gray robed woman sat on the edge of one of the many unoccupied tables in the hall, a short woman with black hair. The amber tips of her bangs were all that was visible under her gray hood. The summoner had a famously fiery temper with sharpened words to match.

In front of her was a girl no older than eight, pink hair with a purple hairband, topped with a pair of cat ears in a simple purple dress and backpack shaped like the face of a bear. The girl rocked excitedly back and forth on the balls of her feet, swinging a stuffed bear by its arm. She looked interestedly up at the cloaked Ionian woman in front of her. The Ionian exchanged words with the elder summoner, her hand leaving the cloak to shake the woman's. The two talked for a moment before the Ionian knelt down in front of Annie, her hand on her knee. Annie held her stuffed bear out with both hands towards the woman. The Ionian shook the bears hand with her index finger and thumb before saying something to the girl no one at the table could hear.

"She never struck me as someone who would like kids," Beyal said blankly, watching the interesting sight in front of him.

"You suck at life then. Youth is one of those things you only get once. I figured Celene would be very interested in the idea," Kathrine replied softly from behind Werhan's arm. Beyal shot her a look.

The Ionian got back to her feet, giving Annie what the summoners could only imagine was some manner of complement. She disappeared, leaving blue fibers floating down to the stone floor where she had been only to devolve on contact. The elder summoner gave Marten a smile, slipping to her feet from the table top. She put her hand on Annie's shoulder, guiding her into one of the lines as the girl skipped along behind her.

Marten sighed in dread. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to High Councilor Vessearia." The man turned and left, leaving the group of summoners to talk amongst themselves as they always did, uninterrupted.

The conversation never returned to its original intensity, instead stepping across the line between calm and animated in an indecisive manner. The hall was emptying slowly as the dinner rush subsided and night took over. The hextech clock above the door to the hall read nine with a small click. The vendors began to pack up. They all looked eager to leave the Institute and return to their families in the city below. The summoners sat talking long after they left, discussing nothing in particular.

"We should move to our room," Jura suggested finally. The clock read nearly eleven. Everyone nodded in agreement. Tomorrow promised to be rather busy. Beyal had requested the field for three consecutive practice matches in the early afternoon, adapting for the group's habit of sleeping into the morning's latest hours. With continued animation, the group migrated out of the hall down the stairs and into the summoner's quarters. As was normally the case, no one else was awake, the only exception being an exhausted Vayne making her way from the library with a pair of heavy books under her arms. She gave the group a tired smile, stepping around them respectfully. The last of the five filed into their shared quarters and snapped the door shut with a click, settling down to do their separate activities.

–

Lux rolled over in her bed, shifting underneath her thick navy blue covers with a squeak. She adjusted the book on the pillow next to her, pinning the cover open with her thumb allowing her eyes to run across the lines of text. "-and stepped from the grasp of the dragon's heavy craws with a grunt. The man's dirtied steel armor pressed against the blackened stone at his back as the dragon withdrew its paw from the gap in which he held himself; drawing a deep breath-" "HELP! ME!" the shaken words punched through Lux's thoughts, ripping her back to the real world. The voice was utterly desperate, livid with fear. "HELP! ANYONE!" The woman screamed again. This time Lux's body moved on its own.

She slid from her bed, her bare feet meeting her white carpet with a sigh of protest as the girl dashed for her bedroom door, scooping up her baton as she slammed the wood out of her way. She gripped her doorframe, allowing her to turn tightly into the Crownguard Manor's wide gilded stairwell. The house was silent, all the servants having left hours ago. Lux sprinted down the stairs as quickly as she could, turning past the master bedroom. The door was opening to reveal a disgruntled Lord and Lady Crownguard. The girl practically bowled them over, stumbling as she pushed her mother out of the way with her baton. The two parents yelled after her. Lux didn't hear them. Her fingers closed around the handle of the front door.

The night air hit Lux in force. Her nightgown did nothing to defend her as she broke out in goose bumps. The moon was shrouded behind black storm clouds and the air smelled of rain. Wind whipped Lux's face as she raised her baton towards the source of the sound, glowing dangerously. A woman stumbled on her skirt, her hands meeting the fine cobblestone of Demacia's richest district with a dull smack. She looked up at Lux, scrambling to her feet.

"Help me! My husband, he-"

"Calm down." Lux interrupted, lowering her baton to her hip. "Slow down, what happened?"

"My husband, h-h-he, I heard fighting, I-I-I he's at the b-bottom of the stairs. He's n-n-not breathing," the woman stuttered hysterically, working herself into a frenzy as she recounted the recent events. Lux stole a glance over her should at her approaching parents.

"Mother, get the guard. Who is your husband, Missus..?" Lux asked. She grabbed the woman's hand in an attempt the calm her. It seemed to work, her breathing began to slow from hyperventilation to panic.

"He is Lackivise Bulwark the Fifth; he's the King's personal scribe. P-please, you-" Lux stopped her.

"Take me to him; I'm a champion of the League. Maybe I can help," Lux said.

"Luxanna, what are you doing? We have no idea what's going on, you could ge-" Lady Crownguard began. Lux spun her baton in her hand.

"Get the guard, Mother," Lux ordered. Lux's mother blinked, surprised by her daughter's tone.

"Young lady, this i-"

"NOW, MOTHER!" Lux shouted at her, whirling around and pointing to the guard house down the road with her baton. Lux's mother stood her ground; both her parents looked at her shocked. There was a pause. "GO YOU STUBBORN-" Lux caught herself with a snarl of frustration. "I'll do it then," the girl said with an unnatural cheery levelness, eyeing her mother with a disgusted expression. She turned around, walking, stomping rather, towards the street. Lights in windows were flicking on.

"Where is he?" Lux asked calmly, her tone serious and devoid of its showcase cheerful inflection.

"In our house!" The woman pointed in panic at the manor across from the Crownguard's. A noticeably smaller three story house pressed in between the massive properties on either side of it.

"Wait with my family." Lux ordered flatly, her bare feet meeting the freezing stone of the road. The woman nodded spastically, standing in the middle of the road with a terrified expression on her face. Lux reached her destination. The door was ajar and no light came from inside. Lux stole a look at her parents. They stared at her with worried expressions on their face. Her father had his arm around her mother's shoulder. The woman's face was contorted as if she was crying. Lux turned away from them angrily.

The light mage held her baton in front of her like a foil. It shimmered brightly, cutting through the darkness like a knife as Lux stepped inside the door. The girl's guard never faltered. She slowed her breathing, clearing the room with her baton as she made her way to its center. At the bottom of the stairs was a pudgy, balding man in white pajamas. He was covered in bruises, his head twisted back over his left shoulder at an unnatural angle. Lux eyes him carefully, stepping over the books littering the floor. The girl couldn't tell if he had upturned the bookshelf as he reached the bottom of the stairs or if his wife had destroyed the room in her panicked attempts to get out. Lux didn't want to take chances; the woman had said she heard fighting, as hard as it was for Lux to believe. Better safe than sorry.

Lux knelt down next to the border, pointing her baton up the stairs. The glimmering light reached the landing, revealing it to be clear. She pressed her fingers to the man's neck. No pulse could be found after a moment of searching. He was indeed very dead. Lux looked up towards the landing at the top of the stairs. Something in the back of her mind annoyed her to leave the house- she felt as if she was being watched. The mage stole a glance over her shoulder. The room behind her was empty. She bit her lip, attempting to be absolutely silent as she stepped over the man's body, planting her foot on the first stair. She began to climb with impunity.

Lux reached the landing, the final stair creaking in annoyance as her bare foot left it. The landing had a single door with a bedroom beyond it. Directly across from the door was a full length mirror. The white drapes from the bed next to it blowing in the wind from the open window. The house was silent. All Lux could hear was her own breathing, which quickened ever so slightly at the sight of the mirror. She cleared the next landing with her baton, feeling the rug underfoot. She stepped on a wrinkle as she made her way into the bedroom. Lux cleared the room carefully with her baton. It produced an annoying glare in the mirror. Lux shielded her eyes, shifting her attention to the rest of the room. It was empty.

The girl turned to leave. The shouting of guardsmen could be heard outside. The girl put her foot in the doorway. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She froze, her gut screaming at her to turn around. She obeyed, shifting to face the room again slowly. Her reflection caught itself out of the corner of her eye. Straight black hair with a thin pale face, lines of makeup trailing from her eyes to the tops of her cheeks- wait. Lux snapped her eyes to the mirror, her baton pointing at her reflection's face. The instrument hummed dangerously, dimly lighting the room. A shocked young blonde woman with bright blue eyes in a pale pink nightgown looked back at her over the glare from her humming weapon. Lux let at out the breath she had sucked in. She was sure she had seen something. She stared hard at the reflection.

Lux sighed, extinguishing the gleaming baton with a whim, realizing she was pointing a light spell at a mirror. The room sank into utter blackness. Lux stared hard at the mirror in the void of the room. Her reflection stared back at her, matching her intensity perfectly. She blinked, it mimicked. Lux leaned in ever so slightly watching it mimic her once more. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. Nothing about her reflection changed. Footsteps could be heard from downstairs, the heavy armored boots of tired-sounding soldiers. Lux turned around, keeping her eyes on the reflection that turned with her. She held her baton over here head like a torch, illuminating the landing. Her reflection watched her leave the room, smiling.

"Hello? Guards? It's Luxanna," Lux called. She stepped to the top of the landing. Several solders of the Dauntless Vanguard stood in the room below. One knelt down over the man sprawled over the bottom of the stairs. They looked up at her.

"Luxanna, what are you doing here?" The captain asked.

"I heard his wife screaming outside my window, and I knew I could respond before you did," Lux said, lowering her baton to her hip. She descended the stared. The captain was a large man, like Garen was, he wore the same armor, the scarf of the Dauntless Vanguard though his hair was shorter and he had a ragged scar across the front of his chin, over his lip and to his ear. Lux didn't know him by name, but had met him many times before. He looked at her, holding out his hand to help her step over the body. Lux ignored it, placing her foot between the dead man's legs and stepping over his shoulder without a flinch.

"You should go deal with your parents," the captain said slowly, his eyes flicked over his shoulder. Lux could see her father yelling at one of the soldiers. The man in armor shrugged at him. "I think he just fell down the stairs," he said to his men flatly.

"I agree" was repeated several times. Lux nodded at them, giving the captain a bright smile. He smiled back, motioning for his men to search the house. Lux sighed, excusing her experience with the mirror as a tired trick by her brain. She strode from the house, the cold night air making her skin prickle as she made her way across the street. The girl locked eyes with her father as she approached him. He turned away from the soldier in front of him, glaring at his daughter.

"What in the King's name were you thinking?!" He barked under his breath.

"I was being a model Demacian citizen and investigating a crime until the guards arrived," Lux said flatly, her tone livid with false cheerfulness, thrown in more to be rude then much else.

"How do you know someone wasn't still in the house?!" Lux's father began to raise his voice. The soldier to Lux's left looked at her pitifully. Lux shot him a smile, disguising how annoyed she was.

"That's what this was for," Lux replied with a smile, holding her baton up into her father's field of view. "Thankfully, there was no murderer. It looked to me like he was sleepwalking and fell down the stairs. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some sleep. Being a champion and a witness, I'll be called in for investigation tomorrow," Lux said flatly, her cheerful tone faltering. She ducked under her father's arm, making her way for the front door, her bed and sleep.

Her parents hurried after her. Lux was halfway up the stairs by the time the front door opened again. "Luxanna. You worried us. It was the guard's job, why didn't you just leave it up to them instead of going yourself." Lux's mother pleaded from behind her. Lux paused with a snort, looking sideways down at her mother.

"Funny, if you didn't want to worry about me why did you have me dragged off to the army? I thought this was what you wanted- for me to be strong and brave, representing our glorious banner as hero to the people and a symbol of guiding light," Lux said slowly, her tone emotionless. She stared at them, poison in her blue eyes.

"Luxanna, you're my daughter. I didn't want anything to happen to you," her father said, sounding hurt.

"Your daughter died on the battlefields, or at least she was supposed to. I'm Lux, the Lady of Luminosity." Lux let out a single small laugh. "At least I'm supposed to be. That's all this is. Do this, do that, smile." Lux glared. "Sometimes I look in my mirror and wonder what type of person I would be if I wasn't forced to fight for some cause and keep up a social balancing act. Maybe I would be likable? Maybe I would be a sophisticated girl with a lot of friends that know ME. Not Luxanna." Lux gestured to herself. Her parents looked at her stunned; Lux had never exploded like this in front of them before.

"Personally, I find it rather disgusting. Someone can be reduced to some idealistic shell for others to gawk at," Lux said flatly, she leaned against the side of the stairwell, her mind spinning itself into an angry storm. A voice in the back of her head pleaded from her to get control of herself. _No__,_ she dismissed it.

"Lux, keep your voice down, people could take that for treason," Lux's mother hissed at her. Lux raised an eyebrow. She began descending the stairs, advancing on her family with threatening disposition.

"Funny that, you know Elder Summoner Marten? He was the one talking to you guys before my practice match? The day Celene possessed me? Interesting story with him. When he was my age, he mistakenly killed his father during an argument. He was tried and sentenced to exile for practicing witchcraft." Lux took a breath. She began descending the stairs, her eyes locked on her parents. Neither of them moved. "I would hardly say pointing out that I'm an object with a Demacian flag hanging from it is treason. The question is... why would you consider it treason?"

A stiff silence followed. Lux crossed her arms at her chest, hanging her baton limply from her fingers. Lux's father licked his lips, knowing he could loss his daughter if he said the wrong thing. He sighed deeply, swallowing his pride. "I'm sorry. I-" He trailed off. His arms shot to Lux's shoulders, pulling the girl into a bone-crushing bear hug.

"Lux, I confess I'm not a good father. All the stupid things I've said to you, all the times I've gotten angry." He looked up, eyeing the Demacian flag hanging above the front door. "I'm so sorry, I can't express it. I had no idea it was doing so much damage. I just wanted you to be strong and successful, find some nice boy and marry him so our ancestors can look back on this part of our family and smile. But that's all malarkey. You are strong; if you could put up with me and your mother's shit your whole life. Your proved it tonight, sometimes things just need to be said." He let go, biting his lip in anger, focused at himself rather than Lux. He sighed, looking at his daughter with sad eyes.

"Do you watch? When I fight on the Fields of Justice?" Lux asked.

"I have before," he admitted. "I was always afraid of seeing you getting hurt, I find it unnerving how disconnected it is. People die and they treat it like a sport."

"That's where you're wrong. They treat it like that to fund its existence. False deaths occur so no real ones have to. It's the noblest idea I can think of, more noble then anything the Measured Tread says. I'm honored that I can represent that idea. No more blood." that might be considered treason Lux thought to her self with a smirk as she finished. "Watch, please. I want you to see what your daughter can really do. You too, mother." Lux put her arms around both of them. "Now, I'm going to sleep. You should too." She released, spinning on her toe and ascending the stairs without a single look behind her.

"Lux," her mother called. Lux paused, her hand on her doorknob. Her mother looked at her sadly. "We're proud of you," she said. Lux smiled brightly at them. The words felt right, physically they felt good. She nodded at them, pulling the door to her room open and sliding inside.

"_Mathew, wake up__."_ Lux pushed the tether into life as she snapped her door shut. She was beaming, her chest felt warm.

"_Lux? What the fuck. __It's__ nearly one in__ the morning. What do you want?"_ Summoner Mathew answered back, less than enthusiastic.

"_I've had a rather interesting night. I want you to put in a participation request tomorrow, I know that a group of Thirties is practicing nearly every day."_

"_Okay__,__ fine, Lux. Can I go back to sleep?__"_ Lux giggled, snapping the tether. She placed herself on her bed. The girl extinguished the lamp on her side table, staring at her ceiling with bright eyes. She was excited. Too excited to sleep.

Mathew rolled over, eyeing his window tiredly. He sighed, calling the tether back to life. "_Lux. You still awake?__"_ The summoner wasn't sure how long he'd been laying there.

"_Mhmm__"_ vibrated across the mental connection.

"_You're__ doing okay right? I know you don't really get along with your parents__,"_ Mathew asked slowly in thought.

"_It's okay now. Why?"_ Lux's voice drifted lazily over the connection.

"_Well, uhh, you__ know that __the F__estival of __P__eace thing is coming up. I was wondering if__,__uhh,__ you __know,__ uhh.__"_ He stumbled over his own thoughts, unsure how he wanted to word his sentence. _"__You know__,__ uhh__,__ how I__,__ uhh__."_

"_O__h__,__ quit being so mushy, I know. And no__,__ I'm not going to force you to meet them. It prob__ably wouldn't be the best idea,"_ Lux cut him off.

"_Okay, thank you."_

Lux grinned at her ceiling. _"No problem."_ She snapped the tether again and rolled over, embedding her face in the pillow. The effect wasn't what she had hoped for. The League's spectacular bedding had spoiled her. Her own bed didn't knock her out at the slightest lapses in attention. She sighed, staring into the blackness of her pillow. Sleep came without her notice, silently. She slipped from the realm of the living into a comatose state, the likes of which she hadn't experienced in years, a bright smile on her lips.

**Author's Notes: Considerably less filler this time. Hope everyone liked how serious this chapter became after the first few pages. A bit of clarification, at the moment there are one hundread and twelve champions in the league (Zac being the 112****th****) during when this is supposed to take place, the lasted champion was Vi at 109 (followed by Thresh, Quinn and Zac) I tried to put out a lot of backstory and content here, you learn about Marten more, Beyal and Kat develop a tad as does Lux and her relationship with her family. I tried to make Lux's dad not an unreasonable ****dickweed. He just wants his daughter to be great in his own ideals but doesnt really know what he's doing, hopefully it came across that way. **


	13. Roses and Lies

**Author's Notes: Thank you for all the support. We're getting new the end. Reviews? They sustain me!**

Chapter 13

Roses and Lies

Riven rolled her eyes. Celene and Caitlyn leaned in, staring at her eagerly from across the table. The hall was packed, and all eyes but the monster's and the sheriff's were glued to the orb in the center of the room. "Well? Why not?" Caitlyn pressured, crossing her ankles on the tabletop. Riven decided looking at the ongoing match was better than looking to her two comrades and their feminine pressure. Celene scoffed at Riven, looking at Caitlyn with a dull expression.

"DEMACIA!" The familiar battle cry parted the chaos of battle. A brief pulse of light illuminated the hall. A cheer exploded from the hall's denizens, a few groans mixing with the roar of approval.

"Purple team triple kill!" The announcer boomed. Celene didn't need to look to see that the match was one sided. The Ionian gave up, turning to watch the only interesting thing in the room.

"Lux is a real terror today," Caitlyn pointed out. The woman re-crossed her legs, rocking back and forth on the rear legs of her chair. Celene nodded, watching Varus and Nunu flee from Lux and her charging brother.

"Huggh. I don't like to admit it, but it's entertaining," Riven said quietly, resting her head on her arms, looking up at the orb through her hair.

"Rampaging Lux or the matches?" The Ionian asked. The small woman half stared at the pair of tendrils wrestling with each other in front of her. The Ionian coiled them around each other and pushed, seeing if one would push down the other. The action served only to forcibly separate her arms.

"Heh. Both, I suppose," Riven answered. She watched in mild amusement as the Ionian failed to pit the strength of her abilities against themselves. Her elbow met the table, holding her gauntlet baring hand loosely in front of the Ionian in a challenging manner. Celene shrugged, coiling her smaller fingers around Riven's palm. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow as Riven slammed Celene's arm into the table with a loud thunk. The sound drew the eyes of a few summoners who, once noticed, were unable to look away.

Celene blinked, coiling her tendrils around her arm before taking Riven's hand again. Riven met her with the same amount of force. The two women stared at each other hard, Celene's lips curling upward more with each passing second as the Exile began to lose. Riven gave up, removing her eyes from the Ionian's. The match had ended.

"Caitlyn, do you wish to challenge the champion in the manliest of Demacian past times?" Celene said in a mockingly deep tone. She flicked her hair, putting her fists on her hips. Caitlyn let out a single laugh.

"Sad part is I'd beat you, and I've never swung a sword in my life," Caitlyn shot. She uncrossed her legs, placing her feet on the floor. Her gloved hand wrapped around Celene's bare one. The two women looked at each other. After a moment of effort, Caitlyn overpowered the Ionian. "There, now go wallow in defeat." Caitlyn pointed to the corner of the hall. Celene smirked, remaining where she was. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be." Caitlyn said, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes as she got to her feet.

The hall sank into a drone of conversation. The orb in the center flicked to life for a moment at a time before fading as the summoners readied for the next match. The monster was surprised they had become so active. The same group of five was scheduled nearly every day at least once. Other groups wishing to practice often faced off against them repeatedly. It was interesting. Their individual styles and tactics were well known throughout the Institute. Celene debated for a moment if she should take up summoner magic. She smiled to herself, laying her head on the tabletop in wait for the next match.

–

Swain pressed his back into his leather chair. The furniture creaked in disapproval as the Grand General stretched. The letters at the head of his desk had begun to pile up in the several days of Beatrice's absence. Swain had been locked in thought for the past two hours, his hand gripping the quill whose ink had long since dried.

Tap. Tap. Tap

Swain looked up, the familiar sound pulling him back to the Institute of War. Beatrice perched herself on the scratched wooden windowsill. No sooner had Swain gotten to his feet and slid the window open when a knock on the door split the silence. The Grand General replaced his window, knowing instantly who it was.

The door opened to reveal Summoner Wilhelm. He looked nervously over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs before quickly stepping inside and kicking the door shut with his boot. The change was instant. The man's face leveled into a confident smile, making eye contact. He shifted, holding himself in a considerably more feminine manner then before. He gave Swain a low, elegant bow out of respect rather than acknowledging the man's position; after all, the power Swain held made no difference to the Black Rose. Swain placed himself in his chair.

"Good to see you, LeBlanc," he said stoically. This encounter wasn't friendly, it was strictly business. The two had a mutual understanding rather than a friendship, trading each the other information for other information. LeBlanc said nothing. She turned her back on Swain, inspecting her fingernails as a thin staff appeared in her left hand. The magic crystals at its tip rotated slowly with no perceivable pattern, their reflective surfaces all showing LeBlanc's face and the room behind it in which Swain sat patiently. The LeBlancs all gave him a different look, most of which were some variation on a smirk. She turned around, the purple summoners robes and mousy face with brown unkempt hair replaced by pale skin, raven locks and a pair of mischievous eyes.

"Your lackey said you needed to see me?" LeBlanc asked. Swain remained silent. She placed her staff horizontally against Swain's wood floor, sitting on it. The staff raised into the air, returning LeBlanc to eye level with Swain.

"I require your... skills," Swain said motioning circularly with his fingers. Beatrice cawed. LeBlanc watched him silently. Swain continued. "The league has taken notice of my agents work in Piltover. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Talon's bloody mess got Officer Caitlyn's attention."

"But, you underestimated her abilities and she traced it here and now threatens to expose you as the instigator and ruin everything," LeBlanc finished for him.

Swain crossed his legs. "Correct," he lied, "she has put the evidence before the League and action is being taken."

"They are investigating you?"

"Yes, I have information I wish to keep from the league and public eye; for the moment." Swain said calmly. "Everything is working as intended. I would even go far enough to call this a pleasant surprise."

"So you want me to throw their investigation askew? Simple enough, even simpler now that they're so close. How should I progress, General?" LeBlanc said. Excitement leaked into her voice.

"The method by which they will investigate is unique to the summoners. I've been informed personally that Talon is to report to the High Council. I would assume they intend to resolve this by sifting through our memories," Swain finished. The tip of his cane pressed against the floor. Swain leaned forward against it.

"You want me to pose as Talon and yourself," LeBlanc said impassively, "and throw them off your trail with a false conclusion? Pretty classic."

"No," Swain replied bluntly. LeBlanc looked at him. The faces in her staff scowled, grimaced. One smiled. "I want you to pose as Talon. Make it look as if he stole the weapon of his own accord- I've already had a rather convincing replica sold to the Zaun black market by a… mysterious hooded figure." Swain tapped his cane. He was having fun.

"You're going to throw Talon to the wolves," LeBlanc said. The statement was not a question, but an acknowledgment.

Swain brushed his hand through the air dismissively. "Talon is one of General Du Couteau's men, a lower city rat that he hauled out of the mud."

"I'm aware. Would you like me to dispose of him afterward?" LeBlanc said. She yawned, drifting slowly to Swain's right on her staff. Beatrice cawed again.

"Not unless something unexpected happens. The Festival of Peace is in less than three weeks. I'll have him dealt with after the first drops of blood touch the earth- it's much simpler that way." Swain pushed himself to his feet. He began to hobble past LeBlanc toward the ice chest.

"You don't strike me as the kind of man that prefers simple, and I don't make incorrect judgments of people. It's obvious you planned for Caitlyn to track you." LeBlanc allowed him to pass her without a glance. She uncrossed her legs, placing her fingers around her staff. Swain smiled behind his mask.

"Well, you're right. I have no arbitrary preference towards anything. I simply do what is most efficient, unless it is inefficient to do so." Swain knelt down. He stood after a moment, placing a tall bottle of red wine on the mahogany table. "Clearly I planned for her to spot this. If I wanted the weapon to simply disappear without a trace, I would have had you get it. This way we kill two birds with one stone. Just keep this in mind, deceiver- we have a mutually beneficial relationship. You have no need to ask stupid questions to get more information. It's tiresome," Swain finished, pulling the cork from the bottle with ease before setting it on the table again.

"What makes you think I don't know that?" LeBlanc replied snarkily.

"If you had known that, you would have already executed my orders and be back in Demacia right now. I would get a letter detailing your actions from you in about two days." Swain poured himself a glass. The conversation had extended far beyond business. He was enjoying himself, pitting his mind against LeBlanc's

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm only here because I like being a step ahead of the man who is a step ahead of everyone else. Talon's already been dealt with. I'm being walked to the High Counsel right this moment. I'm surprised you misjudged the amount of time it would take them to respond." LeBlanc stepped from her floating staff. It returned itself to her hand as the LeBlancs in its reflective crystals smirked and laughed.

Swain smiled behind his facewrap, catching his mistake. He let out a single loud hearty laugh, joy creeping its way into his features. Beatrice cawed. Swain looked up from his glass. LeBlanc was gone. Swain ran the conversation over in his head, with a tiny grin.

–

LeBlanc looked straight ahead from under Talon's cowl. He, or rather she, walked in silence. The two white robed counselors at her flanks snuck glances at her from the corners of their eyes. A smile played itself off her face, Talon's lips remaining immobile as the deceiver allowed herself to silently enjoy her conversation with Swain.

She marched through the belly of the Institute. LeBlanc knew where she was going, but allowed the white robed men to lead the way. A pair of large oak doors loomed into view. Gold trim lined the doorway, forming runes. The two counselors motioned Talon to stop. LeBlanc obeyed, shooting them an irritated look as she grinned behind her mask.

"Please, have a seat." A woman's voice drifted from across the room. Everything was white- the table, the chairs, the High Counselor's desk, all white. Her robes made her seem to blend into the wall. The only predominant thing in the entire room was Caitlyn in her purple dress, perched on a stool next to the counselor like a hawk. Talon pulled his arm away from the man guiding him, giving Vessaria a poisonous look before seating himself in the chair provided for him.

"Talon, please understand that you are not being arrested or convicted. At the moment you are simply a suspect. You are innocent unless we find something to prove otherwise." Caitlyn said. She hopped from her stole, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Talon said nothing, watching the sheriff carefully.

"This." Talon motioned vaguely. "Seems a rather elaborate treatment for a suspect, don't you think?" Talon said spitefully. LeBlanc watched Caitlyn's eyes narrow. She was responding to the test. Not a test to learn, but a test of means to an end. It was all an act.

"Some of the less patient people in this room could take that as a confession, assassin," Caitlyn said flatly, giving Talon a glare. Vessaria raised an eyebrow at him. _Smartass,_ LeBlanc thought. Talon didn't reply. "Very well. High Councilor, if you please." Vessaria pushed herself to her feet. Her chair slid backwards across the marble floor with a scrap. She crossed the room in two steps.

"Please remove your hood, Blade's Shadow." LeBlanc shot her an exasperated look and pulled the cowl away. His shoulder length brown hair draped itself everywhere like an exhausted house cat. LeBlanc prepared her fabrication. Mental illusions were nearly identical to real ones. The only difference is the removal of a step. The High Councilors technique without the help of the enchantments that practically coated the reflection chamber was easy to lead astray.

Talon tensed as Vessaria put her gloved fingers to his cheek, letting her know he despised being touched. Vessaria closed her eyes, the game was on. Talon tried to think of things that would cover his tracks, recalling anything but him stealing and selling the binding blade from memory. Vessaria snapped her eyes open. She leaned out, giving Talon a disgusted look. LeBlanc eyed her reflection on the polished white table. Her face, her real face, looked back at her with a leer.

"Fii," Vessaria muttered under her breath. The assassin froze, a soft bubble of glowing blue magical energy encasing him. The two counselors behind him nodded at her, reaching into the still and sliding a pair of enchanted wrist-irons into place.

"It was him?" Caitlyn asked, watching the men pick up the rigid assassin and carry him from the room as if he were a piece of furniture. Nothing obeyed the laws of physics. His hair remained draped over his shoulders as if he was sitting upright, his cloak stiff as if made of wood.

Vessaria looked to the woman in the purple dress. Her brow furled in effort, as beads of sweat began to make themselves known on her forehead. "Yep. He stole the sword, killed the two guards when they caught him attempting to break open the display case, then sold it in Zaun for a few thousand gold. Disgusting," Vessaria spat. Caitlyn breathed a sigh of relief, a smile creeping onto her lips. The counselor relaxed after a moment, pushing her mind away from all the paperwork ahead of her.

"Would you like to get some food, High Councilor?" The sheriff asked. "Perhaps watch the summoners' practice matches?" Vessaria wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to procrastinate and nodded. Caitlyn smiled and the pair made their way for the door, striking up a conversation along the way.

–

LeBlanc's feet met the cold water of the river, her reflection peeking back at her for a moment as her body ducked towards the reeds, away from Katarina and the charging Shyvana her summoner hadn't seen. _Just as planned,_ she thought to herself as her body distortioned over the ledge back into the lane. Katarina and the half-dragon skidded to a halt, whirling around and sprinting in her direction. They reached her, only for her to appear again in the water, jogging towards the lower lane.

"Fuck! She juked me. She didn't even mimic. UGH!" Beyal exclaimed in frustration, the orb in front of him crackling in protest to the sudden burst of emotion, his bird's eye view of the Fields of Justice and his champion Katarina allowing him to see LeBlanc as she ducked safely into her team's jungle.

"_I told you she was going to. You should have waited in the bushes,"_ Katarina scolded over the tether, annoyance sparking in her tone at being denied a possible kill.

"You're right. I'll trust you next time," Beyal said aloud. He internally scolded himself for his mistake.

"Top's missing," Jura called, flicking his fingers across the orb in front of him, scanning.

"Ward in river bush at... 8:53, expires at 11:53," Kathrine called from across the summoning platform.

"Thank you," said Werhan. "I'm gonna try and steal their blue."

"Don't be retarded, top's missing and LeBlanc just ran that way." Beyal spoke up. He blinked, ordering Katarina's body to embed a throwing knife in a minion he wasn't sure he could reach.

"Fuck, okay." Werhan flicked his orb.

"_Beyal, I need to watch you do this sometime__,"_ Katarina spoke over the mental tether. _"I've only ever seen the League from down here."_

"_If you'd like to take a break, I can summon someone else after this,"_ Beyal replied mentally. The assassin fell back to the safety of her tower as commanded.

"_I'll think about it. Maybe if we lose horribly, somehow?"_ Katarina vibrated over the tether. She sighed. _When did the matches become this fun?_ She asked mentally. The assassin decided not to complain as her body disappeared, appearing behind a fleeing Ezreal.

–

Caitlyn set her food down on the tabletop with a dull clack. The High Councilor wasn't far behind her, her plate following with a much louder, careless slam as she practically dropped it. She let herself fall into her chair with a huff. Vessaria felt as if she had just run a mile. She was red-faced, her hair slick with sweat.

"Difficult to maintain that spell?" Caitlyn asked, leaning back in her chair. Vessaria nodded back at her, her mouth too full of beef to allow a proper reply. Caitlyn swallowed the bread she had been chewing and looked up. "I was meaning to ask you, how will he be prosecuted?" The Sheriff asked. Vessaria frowned.

She took a moment to swallow before pulling her hood back, allowing Caitlyn full view of her face. "Well he will remain in our custody until we can turn him over to the Noxian authorities, where he will likely be released and returned here to reinstate his champion status." Frustration dripped from her voice, her eyebrows tilting inward ever so slightly as she glared at her food. Caitlyn sighed. Neither woman wanted to stay on the subject. Both took notice. Caitlyn pinned a slice of potato with her fork.

"So, that spell, how many people here can actually perform that?" She pushed the impaled slice of food into her mouth. The Sheriff blinked, shifting it to her cheek as it burned her tongue, her face contorting into an amusing expression.

Vessaria pretend not to notice so Caitlyn wouldn't become embarrassed. "Myself and the rest of the council. I believe some of our more talented mages such a Marten and Parrish could likely pull it off as well, but haven't been trained. How it works is the spell is focused through one summoner while any number of others feed them mana, distributing the micromanaging of the spell among the group's collective psyches. It's hard to explain." Vessaria filled her mouth with a slice of beef too large for her to easily chew. She always got hungry when her reserves of mana ran low.

"Ah. You see, no one goes out of their way to explain this stuff to use... grunts," Caitlyn said. The Sheriff tilted her head back, her brown eyes pinpointing the orb that functioned as the chief source of entertainment for the room. Vessaria gave her a questioning look.

"You know who hasn't been a pain in my ass lately?" The High Councilor asked. Caitlyn glanced at her. "Vayne. I haven't seen her in nearly a month except for matches." Caitlyn let out a laugh, earning a look.

"That's because she's in the library, trying to wiggle out information about the enchantments on Summoner's Rift. The Celene incident really got her going." Caitlyn pointed at the Ionian girl across the hall with her fork before blowing on the slice of potato and placing it in her mouth.

"I figured she was up to something, but I've been trying not to think about it. She's such an enormous logistical nightmare. I actually have a question about that incident." Vessaria lowered her voice, stealing a glance at the Ionian. The woman seemed to be locked in an animated conversation with Alistar and either hadn't noticed the High Councilor and Caitlyn or didn't care. Caitlyn's eyes flicked to Celene then to the counselor. "What happened, exactly?"

The Sheriff Leaned in, lowering her voice. "I don't know enough about magic to really be sure. She just seemed to get carried away. She would have killed me if Riven hadn't stopped her. She wasn't that out of the ordinary, aside from being a touch on the brutal side," Caitlyn answered, adjusting her hat.

Vessaria raised a thick brown eyebrow. "A touch? Marten's report said she threw you into Vi by your hair." The Councilor was hardly surprised. Far rougher things happened on the Fields of Justice.

"Yes. That hurt. I can't really say much else, I don't know enough about magic. But when she appeared behind me, I felt my skin... prickle. It was like a shiver, I suppose, but constant. It got worse when she pointed that spell at me. I didn't tell Marten this when he asked later, it just never came up. What does it mean?" Caitlyn asked softly. She set her fork on her plate, giving Vessaria her full attention. The High Councilor did the same.

"Just from standing near you?" Vessaria whistled under her breath. Caitlyn cocked her head. "It's something that doesn't really have a defined name, but I hear it called 'bleed-off' a lot. It's when someone emits enough magical energy to send ripples through the mana in the air around them. It's continuously happening, but for you to feel it, the source needs to be immense," Vessaria explained, Caitlyn gave her a nod, showing that she was listening intently. "Think of Runeterra like a lake. Magic displaces mana by converting it into another form of energy or matter. Most spells are like small ripples, whereas larger ones can be waves and splashes." Vessaria inhaled. "Spells that cause shivers are not uncommon, just like mages that cause them by standing near you is not unheard of they just need to be a prodigy of some type, someone whose mana flows through more easily than normal." The woman huffed, taking a bite of her food.

"Wow, I've never seen you get so animated before. But that makes sense, she was possessing Syndra at the time," Caitlyn said. She stole another look at the Ionian. The woman wore a wide smile. She pointed at the orb, turning to say something to Alistar, who nodded. The hall had resumed its normal drone of racket, despite the match's activity. The regularity maybe had something to do with it.

"That makes sense, but it also brings up a disturbing idea," Vessaria said solemnly, earning a questioning look from Caitlyn.

"She used Syndra's magic during that incident. She can clearly mimic the skills of those she possesses." The High Counselor set her fork on her plate, finishing her food.

"I'm aware that she can do that. She cleared and operated my rifle while in my body. And remember when she got her hands on Katarina during her practice match? It's rather obvious she can do that." Caitlyn pointed out, raising an eyebrow at Vessaria.

"Yes, but how do we know she doesn't keep that information?" Vessaria asked. Caitlyn put her hand on her chin, sinking into thought. She ran through her memory, searching for clues to support this new idea.

"Hmm… She hasn't done anything to demonstrate that. When put back into her own body, she reverts to her own magic." Caitlyn pointed out after a thoughtful moment. Vessaria sighed. She needed to get back to work; there was a stack of papers that needed signing. She had a festival to organize, problems to solve. With a frown, she pushed herself to her feet.

"Thank you for your time. Do you have something to wear for the Festival?" Vessaria asked, turning to leave.

Caitlyn smirked at her. "Indeed I do."

–

The door to the summoning chamber opened, allowing its contents to exit. Six champions exited rather than the normal five. The extra lingered behind, waiting for the summoners to close down their spells and exit. Sona looked over her shoulder with an investigative expression. The Maven sighed silently, plucking her instrument absentmindedly as she drifted down the hall away from the room. She plucked again, forming a simple tone. The sea foam green haired woman blinked, she began to play. Her hands expanding on the notes until she reached her door in full musical stride.

Katarina leaned against the door frame, the blood from her three consecutive matches drying on her skin like speckles of red paint only to have fresh coats flicked on top of it. Some parts of her, like her hands were dyed crimson with thin red trails running down her forearms. The woman's fingerless gloves felt stiff, drying around the handle of her swords, giving her palm guards a warped shape. Katarina decided she didn't want to deal with them and removed her gloves.

"Hopefully you found that interesting," Beyal called across the room. His team looked at him- having her just looming around was making them all very nervous. No one could spare the attention to keep track of her and their champion at the same time; as such she was practically invisible. Beyal had actually forgotten she was standing behind him several times, only remembering when she made some sound or asked a question.

"It was interesting. I've only ever been in the thick of it before- I half expected you to summon up an armchair once all the champions disappeared," the assassin pointed out.

Wiles looked at Werhan questioningly. "Are we allowed to do that?" He asked.

"I don't know, dumbass. Do you know a summoning spell for a piece of furniture?" Werhan answered back.

"So I have a question, Katarina. We all know Sir Pudgy Mc-Carries-a-Lot has a raging crush on you, is this an official relationship?" Jura asked, his orb dissipating into a blue mist. Katarina shot him a look, electing a flinch. She stood silent, a pensive expression on her face.

"I don't know. I'm technically royalty, or the Noxian equivalent, which complicates a lot of things. So no, it's not an official relationship. But no rules are going stop me from being... affectionate," the assassin said slowly. The summoners looked at each other.

"I think... this is good," Kathrine said. "Beyal, you seem to be less depressed. And Katarina, you're... much easier to be around than you were before. I think you two are each other's medicine." Beyal seemed to be exploring the red spectrum of faces he could make while Katarina shrugged in agreement. "But, it all depends on how you two feel," Kathrine added on. Beyal seemed to retract into his robe like a turtle.

"Well, bro, what the fuck are you waiting for? Go sweep her off her feet." Werhan gave a bow, motioning to Katarina with a twirl of his fingers. The assassin found herself feeling a bit flattered. A blush crept into her cheeks. She hoped the blood would hide it as Beyal marched up to her stiffly as if his knees had been removed. He stood somewhat dumbstruck for a moment. Katarina rolled her eyes, grabbing the summoner's hand roughly and interlacing their fingers. He blinked, feeling his knuckles pop in her swordsman's grip.

"Anyone ever teach you to swing a sword?" Katarina asked, feeling his hand wilt.

"Nope, I'm kind of a shut-in. I liked to stay inside and read while my parents got drunk and got in bar brawls," Beyal said nervously. He was adjusting, the redness in his face dripping slowly away. "I could teach you a little magic if you like." Werhan opened his mouth to say something snide, closing it again when Katarina's free hand began to hover near her knife-belt.

"I actually can't use magic. I was never able to," the assassin admitted.

"What the hell is shunpo then?" Wiles asked, running his hand through his short hair and leaning against the wall.

"It's actually Ionian. My father taught me it from a scroll in our library before he disappeared," she answered. The assassin readjusted her grip, drumming her callused fingertips on Beyal's knuckles. The summoner gave her hand a squeeze in response.

"Ohhhh, so it's a Ki skill. Neat." Jura said.

"Kathrine, what's with the face?" Beyal said. The corners of his mouth curved up towards his ears an imperceptible amount.

Kathrine's face remained covered in an open-mouthed display of joy, making her resemble a brown haired Lux. She removed the expression after a moment, devolving it into a smirk. "You realize how interesting you two look right? Katarina being dusted in dried blood only adds to the effect."

"Oh, I actually forgot," the assassin admitted. Beyal blinked, experiencing Katarina's sheepish tone for the first time as she raised her hand in front of her face. Everything up to her elbow was red, excluding the glove-shaped clean patch on each hand. She released Beyal, her hand suddenly feeling cold. The assassin ignored it. "I should go wash this all off. I'll meet you later." She leaned forward ever so slightly, hovering her lips uncomfortably close to his for just long enough to silence the room before vanishing in a puff of purple smoke.

Beyal stood motionless, staring at where she had just been as the smoke dissipated throughout the chamber. Werhan whistled. "Close, huh bro."

"Fuck off. She's probably still in the room," Beyal shot back. The summoners looked around for her, no assassin.

"What? What makes you say that?" Werhan asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"She does that," Beyal said, letting the smile explode onto his face. The five summoners broke into animated conversation and began filing from the room. Kathrine was the last out, looking back in before stepping out and grabbing the knob.

Katarina released, dropping from between the rooms supporting arches and meeting the floor in a silent roll. She hopped, sliding though the reseeding gap in the door. The latch clicked shut. Katarina walked silently behind them until they reached the closest hall that led away from the summoning chambers. The assassin ducked, placing Kathrine's notably wider form in between herself and Wiles as the Piltover man glanced over his shoulder with his hand against the door. It opened. Katarina was already clambering up the doorframe across the hall. She hooked her fingers inside the cracks lining the arches supporting the hall, nimbly tumbled silently across the rafter to the much larger doorframe of the hall. Werhan held the door for the rest of his group as the passed through without a second thought, Beyal in the back. The summoner passed directly beneath her. Her heart was beginning to speed up. A natural response to her intentions, she assumed as she hooked her feet on the doorframe and uncoiled downward into view.

Everyone but Beyal paused in surprise. Katarina shot the back of his head an excited smile, grabbing his shoulders and forcibly spinning him to face her. He jumped, startled as her arms coiled around his shoulders and down his back. Their lips met with more force than the assassin intended. Beyal blinked, too stunned to return the kiss. Katarina's chin pressed against his nose, the lips against his had an iron taste. Clapping erupted from behind the pair as Katarina audibly broke the kiss. She put her hands on her hips, hanging upside down from the door. With a swing of her leg, she practically reverse cartwheeled down to the floor with a click of cleats against stone.

"Well," Beyal managed, unsure how to react.

"You really are a shut-in. At least kiss back, dumbass." Katarina faked a scowl. Beyal blinked.

"That's cheating. I wasn't ready," Beyal teased with a smirk.

"You're not getting another." The redhead crossed her arms.

"Please?" Beyal pleaded jokingly. Katarina burst into laughter. Beyal sagged a little. She grinned, unable to remember the last time she had laughed.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. Earn your reward like a real Noxian." Katarina flicked a knife from her belt, twirling it on the tip of her finger. Beyal tensed as the weapon was drawn "See this? Get it before I do." Katarina took a step. The knife rolled its way over her knuckle between her middle and ring fingers. They bit down on its tip. The knife left her grip with a snap, sailing between the summoners, down the hall, and imbedding itself in the opposite double doors with a thunk.

Katarina gave Beyal a look and took off in a sprint past him down the hall. The summoner stared, stunned at how fast she was.

"DUDE, GO! Holy fuck!" Wiles shouted at him, jarring him from his trace. Katarina spun, running backwards a few steps with her arms outstretched mockingly. Beyal couldn't win and he knew it, even if he had started at the same time. He shrugged and focused hard on the small gleam of steel down the hall. The knife dislodged itself from the door, zipping backwards down the hall towards the summoners. Katarina made a grab for it as it passed her, skidding with a screech of protest from her cleats and reversing direction after the knife. Beyal extended his hand. The assassin inhaled sharply, appearing in front of him, her hand outstretched. Beyal stepped forward, ducking under her arm. His fingers closed around the knife, a grimace splitting his features as it sliced his palm. Katarina spun around, raising a red eyebrow. Beyal shrugged.

"Pay up." Werhan said to Wiles smugly, both summoners averting their eyes from the kiss that followed. Wiles groaned.

"What was it you always say? Never play fair?" Beyal jabbed. Katarina gave him a look only a woman could give. The summoner stepped backward, holding the knife out to her at arm's length. She flicked it into her hand, rolling it over her thumb and into her belt as if spinning a pistol, giving him the slightest hint of a smile and vanished with a puff.

"So, how many headlines did we just make?" Kathrine asked sarcastically.

"Hopefully, none. Potentially, every single fucking one of them," Beyal said flatly, wiping his lips on his sleeve to remove the taste of blood. He checked over his shoulder. The hall was devoid of life and both double doors remained tightly sealed. G_ood__, _Beyal thought, more for Katarina's sake then his own. Swain probably wouldn't approve. However, Beyal was of Noxian descent, so maybe he wouldn't care. The summoner shook his head, removing the troublesome thought.

"Okay. Now that the mushiness is over, I'm going to fall over and die if I don't eat something," Werhan said. Everyone nodded in half agreement. The group departed. Wiles gave Beyal a slap on the back.

"Congratulations."

–

Lux stepped from her carriage with a huff. She was sore, the beginnings of a headache nagging at the back of her brain. The squire gave her a tip of his hat with a smile before whipping the reins of the two white horses in front of him with a "hiya!" The carriage rocked into motion, leaving Lux at the gate to the small city surrounding the Institute of War. The Demacian stepped past, reaching the steps of the League within minutes. The city was quieter than normal. The crowds had been replaced by the stray citizens, ready to buy without having to wait in a line.

The sun hung lazily in there air, painting orange light over the city with a tired sigh. Lux climbed the steps with impunity. Excitement leaked past her developing migraine. She would get to see Garen, after almost two months of separation. She smiled honestly, overwriting her drooping expression.

Lux was covered in warm air as she crossed the invisible line that marked the Institutes enchantments. Lux quickened her pass. Garen could be found in one of four places: in his room, sleeping; in the barracks, training; in the dining hall, eating; and on the Fields of Justice, fighting. Lux eyed the entrance to the hall, as it killed two birds with one stone. The Demacian champions hall door parted, laughter leaked out of it. Lux turned to the door hopefully. Five summoners slid out, all laughing heartily. Lux greeted them, not sticking around to see their responses. She practically ran to the dining hall.

Lux wheeled around the doorway. A quick scan of the packed hall revealed her brothers hulking blue and white shoulder guards. Lux bit her lip. She hadn't realized how much she had missed Garen until he was right there, fast approaching the sprinting Crownguard.

"Heads up," Celene said over her plate. Garen paused his accelerated consumption for a moment, sparing the time to swallow and open his mouth with a question before being knocked into his plate with a loud clink of armour against wood. Garen grunted, the impacted slamming his massive form into the table. Plates jumped, Celene's smile increased in broadness.

"GAREN!" Lux hugged him tightly. Garen looked over his shoulder confused, the expression moved to what Celene assumed joy would look like if expressed by a castle wall. Garen stood from his chair, picking Lux up in a hug.

"Luxanna!" Garen boomed, turning away from food, he patted the seat next to his. Lux placed herself in it without question. She gave Celene a blinding smile. "How was your journey? I didn't realize you were coming back yet," Garen asked.

"I sent you a letter but I guess I outran it; I left this morning. The ride here was rather amusing as well." Lux said cheerfully.

"Was it? I can't stay awake in carriages. What happened?" Garen replied heartily. Celene remembered when she had wondered why Garen talked so loudly. She now knew it was because he simply lacked other volumes. He had only the one setting- Garen.

"Well, I was summoned in the middle of the ride. The summoners somehow figured out where the carriage was after my match and stuck me back." Lux smiled crookedly at Celene. The Ionian just sat silently and watched in amusement.

"Wouldn't it have made more sense to walk out of the chamber door and arrive here?" Garen raised an eyebrow.

"I tried. Did you know there is actually a rule against that? Summoner magic isn't supposed to be used as transportation, except in emergencies." Lux mimicked his expression. For a brief moment it was very clear the two were related.

"That's somewhat backward," Celene pointed out, electing to put pork into her mouth tonight instead of Ionian pastries. The monster was tiring of them as was often the case. She would eat one food exclusively for some amount of time, get bored of it, then switch to something else. She had been doing it for as long as she could remember.

"I agree, but I didn't object. The squire was a nice boy and he would be confused if I never returned." Lux replied.

Garen leaned in, eyeing his sister mischievously. "Nice how?" He teased. Lux pushed him, her chair slide away from him while he remained unmoved. Celene snorted, imbedding her face in her hand.

"He went out of his way to keep me entertained, talked to me about how he lived out in the outskirts near the hallowed marsh and asked me questions about my life. He was very polite and respectful." Lux shot at her brother. Garen bobbed his eyebrows at her, leaning out.

"So he was like that boy at the academy?" Garen poked.

"Hardly." Lux's expression flattened. "That guy was all depressed. The real joker was you." Lux squared her shoulders, straightening in her seat and holding her chin in the air. "When is the wedding?" She said in the deepest, noblest voice she could muster. "Do I need to make arrangements with Mother and Father? Are you sure his family has no ties to Noxus?" Lux finished, Garen snorted, releasing a booming laugh that bounced off the opposite wall. Celene practically fell out of her chair, doubling over into a cloaked quivering ball that emitted a high-pitched cackling.

After a moment the trio recovered, the humor proving infectious as Lux stammered and submitted to her own impression, adding her unique laughter to theirs. "I missed you, Luxanna, Ahri gets a bit annoying after a little while," Celene choked, the Ionian slipped into a coughing fit. She eventually stabilized, tears streaming from her blue eyes.

"Come to think of it... Where's Vayne? When I left she was following Celene around a lost child," Lux asked.

Celene's smile shrank drastically. "Vayne is in the Summoner's Library studying the League's enchantments," Garen said.

"She wants to know how I broke them. I honestly don't know myself, after I possessed Syndra; it's all a little blurry. Last thing I really remember is Riven shouting at me," Celene added.

"I was meaning to ask you about that. For the safety of my sister. What happened to you?" Garen lowered his voice, proving to Celene he did in fact have volume control and leaned in.

The monster looked at him, then to Lux. "Luxanna, have you reached a point in a spell when it just felt... good?" Celene asked. Lux shook her head. Celene sighed. "Well, at least for me. I go into a high after a certain point and I lose myself in the magic."

"I've seen warriors like that- they sink themselves into a blood rush and go insane, hacking down anything in their way, ignoring wounds. Tryndamere and Olaf are good examples of this," Garen said, his features displaying no humor.

"It's not an uncommon idea among mages, you don't really understand. It's pleasurable and once I hit that point, I stop thinking. I just watch as the magic runs wild." Celene said. She glanced at Lux. The Crownguard girl looked at her intrigued.

"So where did you go after that match? I didn't see you for days then I had to leave," Lux asked, looking worried. Celene shot a smile to calm the girl's nerves.

"I wasn't at the Institute, I was... reevaluating myself." Celene stepped around the question. Garen noticed, looking at her with a bushy raised eyebrow.

"If you don't mind me asking, what did you come up with?" Lux asked, spotting the evasion as well. Celene's expression told the girl to cease and desist.

"Well, as much as I dislike what I am, there is nothing I can do about it. Being depressed is a waste of energy and time," Celene said flatly. Lux nodded at her. Garen returned to his food, eating in the way only soldiers could. It was one of the few activities that elected a solid smile from him, the others being Lux and accomplishing a difficult task.

"You know that festival thing is soon, right," Celene said. Lux smiled. Garen groaned, muffling the sound with a chunk of bread. "I asked Marten about it. He said according to Swain, it's going to be a large party, not some political gathering thing; supposedly it's in the city. The whole squire is going to be sectioned off for it."

"I haven't heard anything about it. When I saw Jarvan, he mentioned it with similar excitement to my brother, but he didn't say anything else." Lux said. "Mother did buy me a dress for it, though," the girl added with a touch of excitement.

"Maybe you will meet some boy and dance until the sun rises," Celene teased. Garen nearly slammed his face into his food. Lux giggled, liking the idea. "I think I'll just wear my kimono. It seems fitting, given Earth's ethnicity."

"Earth?" Garen asked.

"'My body," Celene answered with a soft smile. "I got to talk to her again- she's excited."

"Oh," Garen answered, stepping away from the subject. Lux understood. It was surprising how often Celene's nature slipped her mind; she wasn't very different from any other champion. Celene sighed, her eyes visibly drooping in what Lux assumed was exhaustion.

"I'm going to go to sleep, good to see you back, Lux," Celene said slowly, confirming Lux's observation. She nodded at Garen, closing her eyes. Celene envisioned her room, feeling too lazy to get up and walk, the taxing spell shouldn't matter if she just went to sleep the monster reasoned. She exhaled in a sigh; her body began to un-weave itself into blue fibers from her feet up. She shot Lux a smile before her lips disappeared. After a moment the tip of her brown cloak vanished and the blow glow subsided, fibers drifting down onto the table before disappearing with a shimmer.

Garen swallowed the food he had held in his mouth during the interesting event. "I guess that's how she got inside the throne room," he muttered to Lux.

–

Beyal had retired early. He hadn't felt it at the time, but the consecutive matches had taken their toll. He was utterly spent, stumbling into his bed hours before everyone else. It was dark, dark enough for a normal person to be asleep but very early for him. The summoner was out instantly, like a log.

Beyal's eyes drifted open blurry, his room was black. Heavy snoring could be heard from the bed next to his. The three bedroom quarters didn't accommodate a five person team living together. Kathrine got her own room, while Beyal was stuck with a comatose Jura.

Beyal glanced around, half awake. The summoner was unsure why he had woken up in the first place. Perhaps Jura's relentless snoring. Beyal decided he was too lazy to hit the man with anything and lay still, hoping sleep would come. The abyss stared at him, his eyelids feeling heavy. Beyal glanced sideways at his window. It was open. _W__eird__,_ he half-thought,_I didn't open that._ He lingered on the edge of waking for a moment, staring at the blackness around the window.

Something moved. Beyal's eyes shifted involuntary to the spot, just above his window in the corner of the room. His brain failed to reason what could have caused it in its current state. A small trigger of his fight or flight jarred him awake. A soft shine pressed itself against the darkness, nearly imperceptible. Gleaming faintly green, fixated on him, on his face. Beyal held still, his eyes trying to punch through the darkness. _Your mind is playing tricks on you, a natural reaction to darkness to keep you wary of predators__,__ remember? __It's__ an obsolete instinct__- go back to sleep,_ the logic center of his brain told him. He was about to believe it when he saw more movement. The glimmer shifted nearly a foot to the left. No sound came from it as it stilled again. Something was there, some kind of animal or ...something. Beyal went ridged as a board; he had never liked the dark. It shifted again, through the darkness without a sound, never leaving his face. What he guessed were eyes seemed to crawl along the wall, reaching his door then snaking downward. The "animal" moved along the floor in a feline manner with surprising speed, silently. A tiny creak confirmed it was real. Beyal pressed himself backward away from it as it disappeared behind the foot of his bed.

A brief pause. He felt himself turning blue, holding his breath, his heart pounding, flooding his brain with blood. It clambered up instantly without warning or sound, and a weight pressed itself against his hips. A hand covered the scream he was about to release. His view of the window and Jura was obscured by a veil of hair. Green eyes pinned him coldly though the darkness. It rested its weight on top of his chest, releasing a relaxed sigh the expression he couldn't see softened, eyebrows raising on a brow in amusement.

"Did I scare you~?" Katarina whispered teasingly, removing the hand from his mouth. Beyal inhaled sharply, electing a giggle. The assassin slid her hand to his, gripping the limb that seemed pinned to his bedspread in shock.

"Y-you're fucking terrifying, what are you doing?!" Beyal managed, beginning to recover from his brief seconds of fear and shock only for his brain to tell him he should still be scared. "Why are you here?" he whispered, not wanted to wake Jura and go through an awkward explanation.

"I took a huge risk today. And it was the most fun thing I've done in years. So I thought... I'd take another~." Katarina answered coolly. She slid off of the summoner, her feet silently meeting the floor.

"So you broke into my fucking room?!" Beyal hissed. He was scared more than angry. She tilted her head at him, her smile remaining plastered to her face.

"I wanted to see what you'd do." She flicked her hair out of her eyes.

"Well I nearly had a heart attack! You're fucking crazy!" Beyal jabbed quietly, sitting up.

"Well clearly, and yet you still seem to take enough interest in me to enjoy a kiss~." Katarina said, her tone odd. _Is it flirtatious?_ Beyal's brain clicked, realizing what was happening and her likely reason for being there. He blushed.

"Uhhh," he managed, his brain not working with his mouth. She raised her eyebrows.

"No, not that, you idiot. Listen, I've never been this close to anybody. It's dangerous for people to be close to me, for both parties. But you're different- you don't want me to change. No matter how "fucking terrifying" I am." She leaned in, causing Beyal to slide away. "Right?"

Beyal sighed. "Right," he answered, seeing what he thought was a smile in response. He relaxed, lying on his side.

Katarina let out a pleased hum, leaning in. "Good, so for you, I'll risk it." She slid onto the covers next to him in one sudden motion. Beyal flinched, scooting to the edge. She pressed her back against his chest, the edge of the bed leaving him no room to escape. She sighed, curling up. Without another word she lay motionless, facing the window. Beyal nervously draped his arm over her shoulder. She exhaled contentedly, not making another sound until Beyal was taken away by sleep.

The sun poured through the dusty glass of his window. Jura snored, just as he had before. Beyal squinted, blinking tiredly. His brain snapped online and he sat bolt upright. His eyes fell to the space next to him- it was empty. He scanned the room. The window was firmly closed, as was his door. Nothing was upturned, everything was in place. He blinked. _A dream? And a vivid one__,__ at that__,_ he thought. Beyal briefly considered pulling the assassin up through a tether, but decided better of it. He lay back down, his face flat with thought. After a few ponderous minutes, he decided it didn't matter. He would find out later when he saw her. The summoner turned over, facing his window.

Something caught his eye, a strip of color on his white sheets. He leaned out, allowing his eyes to focus. A thin red fiber lay curled just below his pillow. Beyal smiled to himself. _What have I gotten myself into?_ The thought drifted past with a wave. He decided he didn't care, plucking the hair from his sheets and flicking it onto the gray carpet out of view.

**Author's Notes: I know people a lot of people don't like OC's but I really think this relationship is very cute. Im excited to put the next chapter up, as shit begins to get real. Thanks for everyone's time, every chapter I post puts me one step closer to eternal life!**


	14. Let go

**Author's Notes: Here we go. All the build up and foreshadowing begins to pay off.**

Chapter 14

Let go.

Celene's eyes drifted open. Her room was flooded with sunlight, bearing down on her back angrily. A groan left her throat, the light burning her eyes. Squeezing them shut, she fumbled blindly with her hand. Her fingers closed around coarse fabric. The object was draped over her head with a vigorous pull. Sleep stared at her. Celene returned the look. Her brain went offline, sinking the monster into a soft doze. Sounds from beyond her door leaked into her head, being heard but not processed. She stirred. The voices became steadily louder. Celene's eyes drifted open again, staring without comprehension into her bedspread.

"So who is this?" One asked.

"Just one of my more interesting friends- you'll like her." Knuckles rapped against Celene's door. She groaned again, shifting her eyes towards the source of the disturbance. "Wake up! It's three in the afternoon. The Festival of Peace is in a few hours! We have to get ready!" Celene's brain clicked to life, recognizing the voice as Lux. _Oh god…_ she thought, forcing her body to sit up. With a glance downward to confirm she was dressed, a tendril snaked its way from her fingertip. The strand coiled around the doorknob, carelessly pulling it ajar.

"Hi!~" Lux called. Celene ripped her cloak from over her hair, giving the Demacian a look she was too tired to fully form. Lux wasn't wearing her armor. Instead, she sported a navy blue gown, displaying her shoulders and an uncharacteristic amount of cleavage. She wasn't alone. The Crownguard came flanked by a slightly taller, also blonde girl the Ionian had never seen in her life.

Celene arched her back, putting her hands over her head. "Nmmmggg." Her fingers extended then curled. Causing her knuckles to pop, shocking her awake. Lux's friend gave her a surprised look as if she had never seen what was happening in her life, raising her gloved hand to her lips. Celene opened one eye, staring at her. "Who are you?" She asked bluntly. The girl straightened up.

"I am Bethany Viva Lalo of the Demacian Academy of Magic." She gave Celene a curtsy. The monster narrowed her eyes. Bethany flipped her hair, returning to her feet. Celene was gone. Bethany shrieked, stumbling to the other side of the hall clumsily in her high heels as the Ionian's nose brushed hers. Celene gave her a leer, suppressing a laugh.

"The academy? She's one of your students?" Celene gestured lazily with her head, swirling her cloak around her shoulders and pinning it.

"No, but we got reacquainted while I was teaching; she's been a friend of mine since before the army. Our parents know each other." Lux answered.

"Well, if she's here, her parents are too, which would hint that so are yo-" Celene began.

"You're not meeting my parents," Lux interrupted. The Ionian gave her a single barking laugh.

"What are the chances of me simply running into them?" Celene asked, crossing her arms at her chest with a tiny smirk. Lux said nothing. Bethany stumbled to her feet, wrestling with her two inch heels. She shot Celene a glare. "Okay, I promise I'll do my best not to terrify them."

"Go change into your kimono," Lux ordered. Celene raised an eyebrow, smiling crookedly at her. She thought about it for a moment before shrugging in agreement. The Ionian was gone in a blue flash, her door snapping shut. Lux looked sideways at her friend.

"I told you you'd like her," the girl said snidely. Bethany glared, straightening her hair with her fingers.

"Are you kidding? I've never seen someone so unladylike in my life," Bethany huffed, crossing her arms. Lux giggled to herself, suppressing the laughter as best she could.

"Don't be stupid. You're not in the Academy or the rich districts. This is the Institute of War- no place for ladylike anything," Lux half scolded, half teased. The door next to Celene's opened with a click. Riven's sandaled foot met the stone as she marched from her room, pausing only to close the door. The Exile was red-faced and covered in sweat. She paused, her tattered traveling cloth contrasting astonishingly with the pair of richly opulent gold dresses in front of her.

"I take it there are no matches scheduled at all today, then?" Riven asked softly. Lux nodded. Riven gave Bethany an impassive look, her yellow eyes chewing a hole in the Demacian's forehead as she tucked her sword safely inside her arm and stood off.

"Luxanna, is she a Noxian?" The girl asked. Lux snorted.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're funny when you're intimidated? She was, though I don't think she cares anymore," Lux answered. The Ionian's door opened again. Celene shuffled out of her room, struggling to walk. Her hair lazily brushed. She had hung her brooch around her neck by a small chain, creating a makeshift medallion "Celene, what did you do all night? You look exhausted," Lux asked, noting the rings under the Ionian's eyes.

"Slept."

"And this morning?"

"Slept."

"You're strange, follow me." Lux began to march off down the hall, Bethany following without question. The Ionian followed with effort after the pair. After a few moments, she began to adjust to the constricting garment around her ankles and was able to keep pace.

"Where are we going, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My parents'. The festival is at six and we need to get all done up for it," Bethany said proudly. Celene smiled to herself in half-dread. _I suppose,_ her brain reasoned with itself as the trio walked in silence.

–

Celene stepped from the room with a sigh, Lux just behind her. The Ionian's face felt noticeably heavier. Lux and Bethany chattered loudly behind her. She found herself missing Riven's quiet single-word conversations between bites of food. Celene shot Lux a look over her shoulder, deciding she would like to see the festival area before it started. Bethany and her mother emerged from the room. "You look lovely," the woman complimented. Celene faked a smile, and with a whoosh, she dissolved from the legs up, disassembling into a cloud of blue fibers that drifted slowly to the stone floor in front of Lux and the stunned woman.

"She's... interesting. What does she do here?" Bethany's mother asked the Crownguard.

"She's one of the champions, like me, that fight on the fields," Lux answered, she spun around, telling her hands to keep away from her face as the urge to rub her eyes arose.

"I figured as much, she isn't wearing those silly robes. What does she do? What kind of magic does she use?" The woman asked again. She had studied at the Academy herself, specializing in enchantments.

"Well, she's a body-snatcher. She's not human," Lux said flatly. Bethany raised an eyebrow, mimicking her mother. Lux noted, with mild amusement, how obvious it was that they were related.

Celene's feet pressed against the stone, her hands falling to the spire railing. The wind caught her hair, not meeting her face past the wall of makeup. "Nervous?" The voice came from behind her. Celene didn't need to look to know it was Caitlyn.

"Not sure… there's an odd taste on the air today," the Ionian said softly. The view was stunning, as always. The city below was alive with activity in the setting winter sun. Hundreds of figures could be seen below, many of them wearing summoner's robes, many wearing heavy blue and white battle armor. The dull hum of conversations mixing together and drifting on the air met her ears as the square was alive with lights. "A lot of soldiers down there," Celene pointed out. Caitlyn placed her elbows on the railing next to hers. She sported an ankle length ruffled purple strapless dress, her signature hat absent.

"I know there are. The entire Dauntless Vanguard is down there. I think the Demacian elite guard may be as well," Caitlyn said, her tone bored with just a hint of excitement.

"Why such a military response?"

"No one told you? The King is going to be here- likely already is. He wouldn't be far from his soldiers." Caitlyn said calmly. The smell of food cooking wafted up to the pair. Celene blinked, feeling her mouth water.

"He's an idiot, then."

"I know. If Swain wanted to kill him tonight, he could do any number of ways. Garen was quite alarmed about it earlier- I'd leave him alone tonight. We should get down there, as it will be starting soon." Caitlyn said, straightening herself. Celene nodded. "Could you give a lady a lift down?" Caitlyn asked, seemingly acting on a whim. Celene smirked, exhaling softly. After a brief moment of weaving, she curled the glowing blue wing in front of her face, inspecting her feathers. Caitlyn just watched, her excitement growing into a Lux-esque grin.

"I figured you meant teleporting, but I thought you would like this more. Now, I've never done this before, so if I think I'm going to hit the ground, I'll just whisk us there," the monster said, stepping onto the railing and extending a hand downward. Caitlyn removed her heels, stepping onto the stone banister next to her. She carefully wrapped her arms around Celene's shoulders. The monster wobbled, nearly losing her balance.

"Having a few second thoughts about this," Caitlyn admitted, looking down at the ground. Celene grabbed onto her wrists, securing her and stepped off. The sheriff screamed in her ear. Celene clapped the wings. The pair shot upward. She wobbled uneasily towards the Spire, likely due to the added weight. After a moment of screaming, Caitlyn quieted down, reducing herself to panicked breathing. Celene leveled out, making a gliding lap around the small city below. "Fuck this! Can you slow down a little?"

"Not unless you wanna fall." The monster yawed to the left, drifting towards the city and the institute steps. Caitlyn's legs wrapped around the Ionian's hips, followed by another scream. Celene pitched upward, creating as much drag as she could to slow her approach. She and Caitlyn shifted upright, much in the same way Kayle flew, gliding twenty feet above the institute steps. With a half-beat, she stopped her forward motion, slamming into the ground harder than intended. Caitlyn let go and stumbled backwards a few steps. "Sorry if I traumatized you," Celene teased, rolling her shoulders. Her neck popped. The wings folded themselves along her back.

The sheriff got to her feet. "Oh, no. That was amazing, I'm just never going to do it again," Caitlyn managed, suppressing relived laughter. Celene eyed the crowd of people she had landed in the middle of. Summoners, soldiers and a few very wealthy looking citizens stared with expressions ranging from shock to jealousy. Celene flicked the wings, fully extending them to cover the small square in blue light as they unwove themselves, leaving the tendrils to retract inside the neckline of Celene's kimono. The monster shot Caitlyn a smile and ventured into the crowd in search of food.

–

"Grand General," Wilhelm said with a knock. The door opened, a red eye peering out from within the darkness at its visitor. The summoner gave an awkward smile. "Darius just informed me the troops are in position and awaiting orders. What's next?"

Swain opened the door. He was clad in the uniform he had worn at his coronation, save a helmet sitting perched on the man's desk. Swain despised head-wear, deciding he didn't need it. "Keep your damn voice down, fool." He paused, checking the hall for others. "Go to Darius- I need you to act as my relay and await my orders." Swain whispered. He pushed the summoner into his room, stepping into the hall with a tap of his cane. He eyed the mousy man, not wanting to tell him a second time. Wilhelm nodded.

"Yes, Sir. Forever strong." He pulled the door shut. The hum of teleportation magic leaked under the wood. After a moment, he was gone. Swain began to hobble towards the double doors, his face splitting in excitement.

Beatrice cawed on his shoulder. "Be patient." Swain muttered, pushing the doors ajar with his hand. The two walked in silence. The crowd was larger than expected; heavy Demacian battle armour dotted it like flecks of sugar. Swain descended the steps carefully. A small puff caught his ear.

"I did as you asked. The weapon is stashed with the rest of them," Katarina whispered from behind him. Swain looked at her over his shoulder. The assassin wore a black silk dress and a grim expression on her face. The pair reached the bottom of the steps, spying Draven's swaggering form. Katarina sighed. They reached him.

"Nice night, isn't it?" Draven asked. "The full moon compliments me perfectly, don't you think?" His hair was slicked back, and despite the tattoos and handlebar mustache, he wore a tuxedo rather nicely. The rose in his coat pocket was pushing it, but it could have been much worse. Katarina released a breath, relieved she wouldn't look like an idiot just standing near him- at least if he didn't say anything. _I'm fucked,_ she muttered internally.

"Grand General!" High Counselor Vessaria greeted him cheerfully. "I'm glad you made it. This is proving to be quiet a boom for the city; nobles from all over are here." Her expression leveled, making Katarina suspect she was faking. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to search you and your companions for weapons. We wouldn't want another incident like what happened during Jarvan the Fourth's judgment now, would we?" The woman gave one of the most false smiles Swain had ever seen. He nodded, submitting to the pat down by the pair of summoners that flanked the woman. The pair checked each member of the three. They exchanged looks before checking Katarina a second time. Vessaria narrowed her eyes at Swain. "Welcome to the party," she muttered, stepping out of his way.

Celene swallowed. She hadn't eaten all day. That, combined with a bit of excitement from flying and sitting in a small room with Lux and her annoying friend for nearly two hours, had led to her singlehandedly disassembling the plate with the Festival's appetizers. She looked around, not seeing much, as everyone was taller than her. She felt out of place, being the only one wearing Ionian clothing. The Ionian began to wander, looking for people she recognized.

Soldiers of the guard eyed her nervously. Celene smirked. Garen had likely briefed them on what she could do. All of the men looked very nervous.

A soft tone drifted to her ears over the crowd. "Celene, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine." The Ionian turned on her heel, her gaze burying itself in a pair of deep amber eyes. Riven gave her a soft smile. Celene blinked. Riven wore a dress of white silk supported by thin straps crossing her shoulders, allowing a lot of her back to be seen. Her hair had been tended to carefully and hung straight from her head. A thin line of droplet-shaped scars ran over Riven's left shoulder down into her cleavage and out of sight- old burns, bad ones, giving her already unique appearance more flavor. The Ionian stared.

"Celene?" Riven tilted her head questioningly.

"Sorry." Celene felt herself smile sheepishly. "You're not supposed to be prettier than me," she teased, crossing her arms at her chest and leaning on the table.

Riven's hands fell to her hips with a scowl. "Why not? Hughh, never mind." Her right hand left her hip, gesturing to the large man next to her that Celene hadn't noticed. He stood a few inches taller than Riven, but it wasn't his height that made him imposing. Even through the formal Ionian dress robes, he was bristling with muscles. A bright red cloth crossed over his eyes, his head shaven but for a single braided ponytail that sat coiled around his heavy shoulders like a length of rope.

Riven turned to face him with a soft smile. Celene nearly gasped. Riven's entire back was a mess of old scar tissue as if the skin had been melted. Droplets of white tissue extended out from the main site of the damage in rings over her shoulder blades as the lower half of the scar sank below her dress and out of sight. Celene suddenly felt like a child for being disgusted over the tiny puncture scar on her shoulder.

"This is Lee Sin, one of the most honorable and wise men I have ever met." Riven said, patting him on his shoulder and turning around. She spotted the Ionian's shocked face and looked away shyly, rubbing her back. Celene gave her an apologetic look, turning her eyes to her right and upward to meet the cloth on Lee Sin's face.

"It's nice to meet you outside the Fields of Justice," she said softly with a smile, suddenly feeling stupid as she knew he couldn't see it. The man pointed his face towards Celene's voice, showing she had his attention.

He sniffed audibly, earning a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I remember you. The small woman that seeks redemption from herself while inhabiting the bodies of others." He extended his hands toward Celene's cheeks. With remarkably careful fingers, he cupped her chin, running his fingers over her features. He cracked a thin smile, marveling at how tiny she was. Riven watched, amused as he felt the shape of her shoulders, creating a mental bust by which to recognize her with.

"Riven told me about the conversation you had with your body," he said, noting on top of the image painted by his fingertips that the woman smelled of enchantments and green apples. He paused stoically, correcting himself- very old enchantments. Nothing the ex-Summoner in training was familiar with in his years of study; this was different.

"I hope I wasn't invading your privacy by letting him know, but I needed someone to talk to," Riven admitted. Celene smiled at her while the monk stood, his would-be gazelocked on the Ionian. The magic smelled... vile. He decided not to dwell on it and shifted his attention to Riven. The magic flowing from the woman in waves irritated his heightened senses.

"It was a good thing you did," Lee Sin said purposefully, not allowing the small woman to see she made him uncomfortable.

"So why are you here? With all due respect, you don't strike me as the type interested in this kind of thing." Celene flicked a strand of hair out of her face, watching the man shift his weight from one foot to the other.

"With honesty, I am not. However, today is a day in history that marks progress. I wanted to se- experience it for myself," He finished in his heavy accent. He cracked a smile as Celene's eyebrows climbed to her hairline. He tilted his head questioningly, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Lee Sin leaned down to eye level with the Ionian, who stood her ground. His thick finger prodded the golden disk that hung by a chain from the woman's neck. "If I may ask..." He began. Riven looked at him, confused. "What is this?" Celene narrowed her eyes at him as he cupped the small object in his hand. He wrinkled his nose as he felt the cold surface with his thumb. _Enchantments leave heat in their wake… strange, _he thought. A small hand coiled around his wrist, unable to completely encircle it. Without force, he could effortlessly defy its shove. Lee Sin allowed Celene to push his hand away. Riven blinked uneasily as Celene gave him an angry glare. The uneasy air and time with Lux's irritating friend had left her in a sour mood was now clear.

"It's none of your business," the Ionian spat with remarkable levelness. Riven gave her a shocked look, earning a scowl. "I'm going to go find Caitlyn," Celene said flatly. She turned on her heel, ducked an arm and was gone from sight, leaving Lee Sin and Riven as alone as a pair could be in a crowd.

"I trust your intuition. What's got your bothered?" Riven asked the monk. He shifted his posture, facing towards her unique pitch.

"I thought it was enchanted, but it's not. I recognize that smell," Lee Sin answered calmly. Riven nodded; enchantments did have a faint smell to them, but it was nothing she could detect without effort. He paused. "It's similar to Irelia's swords," he finished. Riven pulled what she knew about the woman from her mental archives, her run in with Noxian necromancy on the fields of battle and Soraka tethering her soul to the world to keep her alive didn't paint a pretty picture.

"Irelia's weapons are her phylactery," Riven said blankly. Lee Sin nodded.

"Indeed. Through Celene is a creature of a different sort so..."

"What's in her phylactery?" Riven finished for him, recalling how the Ionian seemed to constantly fiddle with the small object.

Celene ducked another arm, passing inches behind Lux as she spoke with a blond boy in dirtied traveling clothing sporting a pair of goggles. She paused just in time to see Ezreal subconsciously flick his eyes down to her cleavage before returning them to her face. The two continued their animated conversation. From the sound of it, Lux was having a lot of fun. She smiled, her mood slowly recovering behind the guilt she felt over her rudeness towards the blind man as she began to walk again. She felt a faint bristling of the hairs on her neck. Celene stopped in her tracks. Either everyone was going to die, or... She stepped forward, pushing her way less then carefully past a pair of Piltover nobles, causing both to complain, muttering at her rudeness before returning to their conversation. Celene didn't hear them; her attention to focused on the Ionian woman that hovered bored on the outskirts of the event. _What the fuck is she doing here,_ Celene thought to herself. She shot the woman a questioning expression.

Syndra spotted her, her violet eyes pinning themselves to Celene. She smiled. Celene blinked. "Excuse me. Sir?" The Ionian spoke, looking up at the large Demacian next to her. The soldier looked down at her, his face clicking in recognition.

"How may I help you?" He said professionally. Celene motioned with her head to Syndra.

"What is she doing here? Did she say anything?" She asked. The man shrugged and shook his head.

"You have nothing to fear, citizen. We're keeping an eye on her." Celene raised an eyebrow at him, knowing if Syndra decided to do anything, the two platoons of soldiers wouldn't do much. He sighed, showing that he knew as well. Celene felt her curiosity pique. She turned, approaching the floating woman.

Syndra remained silent, eyeing the Ionian girl with a predatory smile. She had done nothing to change her appearance for the event, aside from some black lipstick. "Interesting seeing you here. I would think these kinds of things beneath you, a waste of time you could be spending teaching yourself to be... stronger," Celene said to the woman, stepping around the word "power."

"You can feel it too, can't you, like a sour taste on the air. Normally, I would agree with you, but this may prove to be more amusing then we have come to think," Syndra replied. Her voice seemed to echo even though she spoke just above a whisper.

"We?"

"Indeed. You and I are very similar. We are equal." Syndra paused. "I fail to understand why you associate yourself with these... insects, lesser beings to you, like ants." The woman crossed her arms and a tingle slid up Celene's spine.

"You'll understand when you're older," Celene teased carefully. Syndra's expression lifted from blank to the slightest hint of amusement.

"Attention, everyone! May I have your attention!" Vessaria stood on the makeshift stage, her arms above her head. The chatter of the crowd dipped to near silence.

"It's starting," Syndra muttered in excitement. Celene leaned her back against the wall next to the woman, looking in at the Festival about to fly out of the gates.

"I am High Counselor Vessaria Kolminye of the League of Legends. As I'm sure you all know, this is a celebration of the peace spread across Valoran by the League and its participating city-states and champions." Vessaria raised the glass in her hand above her head. "A toast!" She proclaimed. "To peace!" The glass was raised to her lips. Celene half expected her and everyone else to fall over dead. Nothing of the sort occurred, just a moment of silence as everyone took a sip of wine. She lowered the glass. "Grand General Swain of Noxus, please step onto the stage." She spotted him in the crowd, giving him a look. Swain hobbled out of the cluster, ascending the steps to the stage carefully. Swain gave the crowd a bow, placing his cane in front of himself to lean on. Vessaria watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye.

"King Jarvan Lightshield the Third of Demacia, please step onto the stage," The High Counselor spoke loudly. The King slowly made his way out of the crowd. He stepped onto the stage, flanked closely by Garen and Shyvana. The two were both armed; Garen drummed his fingers nervously on the hilt of his sword. The crowd was silent enough to hear Shyvana growl under her breath. The King shot her a look, turning to face the crowd. The tension was dense enough to swim in. No one dare say a word. Celene snuck a look at Syndra. She had an amused grin spread across her face.

Swain was the first to speak. "People of Valoran, as the Grand General of Noxus and representative of Noxus in the League of Legends, I would look to thank each and every one of you. I believe that the League of Legen-" Celene's attention slipped. She pushed herself from the wall, sneaking a look at Syndra as she made her way towards Shen, Akali, Kennen, and Irelia.

"What do you think?" Celene asked Irelia. The woman turned, giving her a look.

"I think he's lying," she muttered under her breath.

"It does not matter if he is," Shen said slowly. Both women looked at him. He didn't move a muscle. "The balance will be preserved; I see nothing out of place. This is a good thing." Irelia gritted her teeth. Akali nodded in agreement. Irelia slide her hands inside the sleeves of her kimono with a sigh.

"Very well, I trust the order."

"-and as the King of Demacia, I proclaim that the League of Legends not only heals old wounds, as you see here, but makes all cities and people in Valoran safer-" the King looked at Swain, "-and stronger." He raised his hand to the air. "Demacia! Now and forever!"

Swain followed suit. "Forever strong!" He yelled.

Irelia gritted her teeth, raising her fist. "Peace!" She bellowed in Ionian.

A gauntleted fist punched through the top of the crowd. "By the snows of Freljord!" Tryndamere added. The crowd began to smile in excitement.

Jayce put his hand in the air. "For the future!"

Viktor, his "nemesis," stuck his robotic third arm through the crowd, balling it into a fist. "Perfection!"

There was a pause. A few small grunts drifted through the crowd. Teemo poked his head through the top of the crowd, standing on Tristana and Ziggs' shoulders. Snickers drifted from the crowd as the yordle adjusted his balance. He batted his ears. Celene nearly had a heart attack, spotting the small tuxedo. He raised his tiny hand. "For companionship!"

Swain extended his hand to the king. Garen gritted his teeth. _This was it,_ everyone collectively thought. The Demacian King swallowed the lump in his throat, stepping from his guard and clutching the man's hand. The two exchanged a hearty and secure shake. A flash from a camera went off and the crowd exploded into a roar of cheering. Hats were thrown into the air. It was a moment in history. Celene grinned. The handshake broke with a bow from Swain. The King followed and stepped back to the safety of Garen and Shyvana. The two exchanged relieved looks.

Vessaria returned to the center of the stage. "Tonight, we celebrate. This night belongs to Valoran!" The High Counselor finished dramatically. The clapping and cheering continued for a moment after she left stage. The crowd fell silent again as a heavenly sound wafted over the town square. Sona drifted onto the stage. Her dress was line with gold and gems, her face baring more elaborate makeup then Bethany. Her eyes glittered in the light from the hanging candle lamps that crisscrossed the square. She placed her hand on her instrument to silence it, making the motion to clear her throat with her other hand though no sound came. She sighed with a smile, closed her eyes and plucked a cord. Celene's heart skipped a beat, as did everyone's, the magical instrument working in full effect, only adding to her incredible skill.

Celene stood and listened for a moment. A man stepped from the crowd. He was tall, sporting a top hat and monocle with a very expensive looking suit. "I am Maximus Valorius," he introduced himself with a bow and extended his hand. "Would you like to dance with me, Irelia?" Celene put her hand over her mouth, pinning back a snicker. Irelia looked at the ground.

"I... don't know how to dance," she admitted with a gulp. Celene assumed she was swallowing her pride.

The man gave her a smile, keeping his hand extended. "That's fine, I do not know how either." Irelia smirked softly and took his hand. "You four enjoy your night." He nodded at the group of ninjas, all dressed as though they were about to be summoned, minus the weapons.

Celene strode into the crowd. Half of them danced, the other half watched. The dance was slow and romantic, matching Sona's melody. She ducked an arm, making her way into the center of the crowd. She spied Lux, being gracefully spun by Ezreal. Celene blinked with a smile, stepping out of the way of a couple too entranced in each other to see her. She scanned, spotting her Riven chatting with a very well-dressed Jayce, her cheeks abnormally rosy.

"So, little lady, what do you think?" A resounding voice came from behind her. Draven downed a glass of wine in a gulp before twirling it by its base around his index finger. He looked at her sideways as her attention shifted from the party to him.

"Think of what?" Celene answered. She liked Draven; he was amusing in his raw egotism. The man shot her an explosive smile.

"The party! It's pretty amazing, yeah? There's only one thing I can think of that would make it better." Draven shot his arms out at his sides, nearly clocking the couple next to him in the head.

"And what's that?" The Ionian played along. _H__ere we go,_ she thought to herself, her smile growing.

"More of me!" He exclaimed, leaning in and extending his hand towards her. "Center stage, would you join Draven?" He asked. Celene giggled- he was attempting to be romantic, poorly. She took his hand.

"Alright, I'll bite. Can you dance?" She asked. The corners of her mouth touched her ears.

"Don't worry, my tiny moon-speaking fan... Draven... is a master of all things," Draven said, closing his hand around hers. He pulled her through the crowd, parting it like the bow of a ship. Lux shot her an astonished look as she passed her. She attempted to say something, but Ezreal spun her away. Draven hopped onto the stage. Sona smiled at him, drifting backwards to give him room while Swain raised an eyebrow. A few cheers and laughs came from the crowd as Celene's hands found their proper spots. The dancing proved difficult in her kimono, coupled with Draven being a few inches too tall for her liking and a very aggressive partner made her look clumsy. Celene didn't really care, competing with the man to see who could have the bigger grin.

"So where's your brother?" Celene asked. Draven flicked his eyes to Swain, then back to his partner. He spun her; she was beginning to despise her kimono.

"Big brother Darius couldn't make it, his ship got attacked by pirates," Draven said with a smirk. Swain slapped his hand against his face. Luckily enough for him, Celene had her back turned. The Ionian took her eyes away from her partner, doing her best not to burst into a fit of laughter. Garen was looking at her rather stunned, as was the king.

Lux raised her eyebrows. "Humph, I half expected him to start telling knock-knock jokes," she whispered teasingly to Ezreal whom shrugged with a smirk.

The Ionian smiled at her. Draven gave Celene an aggressive spin. She wasn't expecting it and tripped, grabbing onto him to avoid falling off the stage. Draven eyed her, as a few gasps escaped the crowd, Sona missed a note. She scolded herself for getting distracted.

"Whoops, stepped on my dress," Celene said with a smirk. Draven practically glared.

"I don't think your skills are worthy of Draven's attention," the man said. With a spin she left his hand, stepping out of the motion shakily in front of Swain. "Who would like to dance with Draven?" He asked the crowd. The wealthy guests, soldiers, summoners, and champions all glared. Draven seemed not to notice, hoping from the stage and swaggering off.

"You'll have to excuse him. He's an idiot," Swain said, leaning on his cane with raised eyebrows. Celene sighed, letting loose a few amused giggles. The Grand General extended his hand.

"Whatever. He just made himself look like a fool," Celene said, taking his hand, "and by extension, you," she jabbed playfully at Swain. He shrugged. Beatrice cawed and took off. Swain tossed his cane off the stage, putting his hands into position.

"We'll have to fix that. Shouldn't be too hard, I'd bet I'm a better dancer then that clumsy moron is, even with my leg," Swain said, shooting a look at his annoying companion, whom was now bothering Akali. The ninja said something Celene couldn't hear; Draven waved his hand dismissively at her and marched back into the crowd. Swain sighed, stepping into a slow ponderous dance with Celene. A camera flashed again, catching the Ionian mid twirl. Swain moved much slower, allowing Celene time to react so she wouldn't trip again.

"So what brought you to arranging this?" Celene asked, stepping over Swain's foot carefully as his leg lagged behind him- despite the disability, the man somehow managed to make it look good.

"It was mutually beneficial; Noxus, as strong as we are, is exhausted. The people just won't admit it," Swain said ponderously. He was choosing his words carefully, making Celene think he was lying to her. She gave him a look, letting him know. He let out a sigh, spinning her. "I have a favor to ask you. I know how these exchanges are conducted between immortals." Celene raised an eyebrow.

"You're proposing a deal," she said slowly, stepping over his foot again.

"Yes. I am getting old, and when I die, there are things I would like to avoid." Swain stole a look at Beatrice, perched on top of the dessert table. Celene's smile was gone, a tingling feeling of dread sprouting in her mind. "I don't want all I've worked for to just vanish when I die so I propose a trade."

"I'm listening," Celene said slowly. Sona changed beats; the pair sped up to match.

"You give me immortality, and in exchange, you become the Grand General of Noxus," Swain said calmly. The collected tone of voice was unnerving. Celene took a moment to process the request, sneaking a look towards Syndra. The woman's attention was focused entirely on her and Swain. A twitch of anger shot across the woman's face. Celene had no doubt Syndra could hear them through some magical means.

Celene opened her mouth to answer. "I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I have no interest in being the Grand General, it's more trouble than its worth." Swain sighed, letting go of her and ending the dance. He motioned to Beatrice. The crow cawed, swooping around the square and fetching his cane. He caught the wooden object without a glance, tapping it against the floor in front of him and leaning on it.

"I'm afraid you don't have the option of declining me," Swain said slowly, his face hard. Celene gritted her teeth.

"I see. One of those- dare I ask what happens if I decline?" Celene shot back, her voice shifting towards spiteful. He was trying to control her. A twinge of anger rose in her chest.

"The melters will open fire on Demacia," Swain said slowly. "And the League will be razed to the ground." Celene stood in silence, her brain working frantically behind her glare. Swain returned with a flat expression. The crowd had begun to notice. Sona looked at them nervously as the pair stood ridged looking at each other with climbing intensity. Garen smelled trouble, motioning for the King to follow him. The King nodded and removed himself from the stage.

"The Demacian's aren't going to allow them close to their city." Celene said slowly, calling the man's bluff. She searched frantically for a way out.

"How is that? All there standing forces are right here, a day's march from there city." Swain shot back. It wasn't a bluff. Celene sighed; he had her over a barrel. The monster wondered if she could simply kill him. _No__,__ he co__mmands the troops, he's immune,_ she thought spitefully.

"Celene, are you okay?" Riven's voice drifted from the crowd below. The Ionian didn't answer her.

Swain extended his hand again. "Just agree- it will be easier for everyone." Celene gave Riven a sorrowful look. Her respite was over, one way or another. The Journal of Justice hextographer looked at her questioningly. An idea popped into Celene's head, the Journal of Justice issue she had picked up in Demacia coming to mind. She smiled- it was perfect.

"SWAIN!" She bellowed at him. Sona stopped playing, the crowd paused. Vessaria bit her lip, looking at Marten uneasily. Marten shot the look back. "I challenge you to a duel for your position as Grand General of Noxus." The Ionian said as powerful as she could, pointing at Swain. He blinked, caught off guard. "What kind of cowardly leader are you? Selling out your country and consorting with Demacian?! You lying, disgusting lump of meat!" Celene shouted. Swain flicked his eyes to the hexographer in the front row. The man was frantically scribbling everything she said on his arm. No one made a sound.

Swain understood the game. Immortality or death, kill her and live forever, or die. It wasn't that different from his original gambit. Swain sighed, everyone heard him. "Very well, you worm. On your guard." There was a pause.

Marten's lips formed the motion for a still. Vessaria put her hand over his mouth. "We have to! It's Noxian culture." She hissed under her breath. Celene swallowed, her chest beginning to burn.

"That's fucking bullshit, and you know it, Counselor!" Marten snapped back, ripping her hand away. Vessaria pulled her hair in frustration. Two of her champions were about to kill each other and she could do nothing about it. The laws of the League were absolute. They had to be, the League held all the power.

Riven gritted her teeth. Celene shot her a look. _Trust me, don't interfere,_ her expression said reassuringly.

_Now?_ A small voice poked in the back Celene's mind, her chest burning.

_No__,_ she answered.

Swain pulled down his facemask, frowning at the Ionian. He tapped his cane against the stage. A screech exploded across the square. Celene was gone, the spell missing her. Her attire would prove very troublesome, but luckily enough, the Ionian's skillset allowed her to fight without taking a single step if need be. Celene locked her eyes on the top of Swain's head and dove. Swain spotted her shadow before spotting her, diving straight for him on a pair of glowing blue wings. _Very cle__ver, getting around __N__evermo__v__e by staying off the ground__,_ he thought. He pulled the mana down his neck, into Beatrice. The bird cawed, an orange arc of electricity sparking from its mouth. Celene was gone again.

Swain spun, tendrils bit into wood as Celene tethered herself to the stage. Her wings converged in a booming clap. Swain was lifted from his feet. Boards groaned and tore loose. The makeshift structure collapsed as the blast of air flattened half the crowd, removing candle lanterns from their tethers above. Screaming filled the air as the hundred pound woman came rocketing from the dust left in the stages wake.

"Get the summoners organized!" Vessaria shouted over the panicking crowd. "We need to keep the Demacians from causing trouble!" Marten looked at her shocked. "NOW, SUMMONER!" She screamed. The two champions exchanged spells. A bolt of yellow light struck the less mobile General, roping him to the cobbles. He fired a blast of green manafire back, dispersing against a prismatic shield that had formed in response. Lux felt her jaw drop. _That__'__s my magic..._ Celene jutted her arm outward towards Swain. The man shook loose the bindings just in time to avoid a black sphere of magical energy that zipped past him, ripping up a bowed wave of cobbles as it went crashing into the stairs of the Institute. He shot her a surprised look, his mind racing to assess the new tactical information.

Celene's eyes locked on his. It was out of character. The Ionian snarled as tendrils exploded from her hands, erratically whipping the night air as they viciously closed on her target. Swain swung his hand, a blaze of green feather laden mana fire exploded forth. The assault struck each other with a crack as Swain tapped his cane on the ground. A murder of crows burst from the night into the light, encircling Celene in the eye of a feather storm. It closed in. The storm of crows explode in a cracking of hollow bones and pained screeches, catching fire and being blasted away by a pulse of violet energy. The birds rained to the ground as the pulse knocked Swain onto his back. Garen grabbed his sister, throwing her behind himself as the violet wave washed over the crowd, harmless and warm as a summer breeze. Syndra felt her smile widen, watching amused from the outskirts of the square.

Swain pushed himself to his feet with his cane. The Ionian closed in on him, her thin fingers closing around his neck, her teeth closing on the forearm gripping his cane. Swain yelped as the Ionian shot him a ruthless glare, and with a jerk of her neck the skin under her teeth came loose from his arm. She spat it out, tendrils baring themselves in a scorpion-like manner as she bared her teeth and went for his throat.

Bethany felt her fingers tighten on Lux's shoulder as she half cowered behind her rigid, very angry looking friend. She hadn't expected the small Ionian to fight so viciously; the click of her teeth narrowly missing flesh sounded across the square. Swain felt a flash of anger, finally allowed the leverage to club her over the side of the head with his cane. She tumbled off onto her back, vanishing in a pulse of blue light to avoid the Nevermove that followed. Swain snarled. It morphed into an alien howl as his back split, a pair of massive black feathery wings pushing themselves into the air with a visceral ripping sound. His skin bubbled, his face shaping itself into that of a crow. Six red glowing eyes focused on the Ionian as crows erupted screeching from his skin, talons bared. Celene clapped her wings. Putting some distance between her and the General and right on top of the Nevermove Swain had just cast. The Ionian noticed, disappearing. Swain spun his new body, a sharp pain met his left side as a barrage of needle-tipped fibers sank into his skin. He reacquired her, a murder of crows erupting from him and streaking towards his challenger. Celene flicked her wrist. Blue fibers diced the approaching animals. Squawks of pain filled the square as the exchange continued, splattering blood and feathers all over the cobblestone.

Celene spotted the Nevermove coming before it did. With a beat of her wings she was in airborne and far beyond its reach. The tendrils embedded in Swain caught. With a rip of bone and flesh, his left wing was torn loose. He shrieked, ending his transformation more due to lack of mana than damage. She saw her opening. Appearing in front of him, her wings unwove, the tendrils baring themselves menacingly on the man. Swain ducked a neck level lash from the thin blue fiber, not wanting to test their cutting power. His cane was raised like a foil, and in the moments that followed, he proved himself to be a very able swordsman, avoiding and parrying the whirling mass of tendrils. His balance was disrupted- one single fiber had caught him by the ankle, ripping his feet from under him. He landed on his back as the Ionian bared her now bloody teeth and lunged at him. Swain wrapped his fingers around the pillar of his cane and pulled.

A shocked gasp filled the air as Celene froze, a sharp pain jutting through her left side. Something pressed between her ribs, out her back her. The white fabric of her kimono stained deep red. Swain put his back into the motion, lifting the Ionian off him on the bladed weapon as he got to his feet. He shot her a smile, putting his hand on her shoulder. With a rip, the thin steel blade came loose from her side, sending a spray of blood into the backpedaling crowd. With a spin, Swain brought the weapon down on her shoulder. The scar his assassin lackey had left all those years ago split perpendicular. Celene let out a cry of pain as her collar bone split neatly in two. He twisted the weapon and pulled it loose. A wave of drowsiness washed over the Ionian. She blinked tiredly, feeling lightheaded as her vision shifted from Swain to the starry sky.

"CELENE!" Someone cried from the crowd. The cry was muted by some unknown force. The Ionian knew this feeling, she was dying. He had bested her. Her head met the cobblestone, strangely painless. Something hot was splashing against the side of her face, in time with her heart. He knelt down, ripping a section of fabric from her sleeve and wiping the blood from his sword before sliding it back into the base of his cane with a scrap and leaning on it.

Riven shoved Jayce out of the way, knocking him to the ground. She tripped on her skirt causing it to tear. The Exile didn't care as she closed in on Swain. A thick axe put itself in between her and the Grand General. Draven stood smirking, twirling his other axe excitedly. "Make a move, Grandma," he threatened. Riven howled in frustration, attempting to push him out of the way. "Ah, ah, ah, you're not getting past Draven." He pointed the weapon at her heart.

"Sinister Blade," Swain said, breathing heavily. He looked down at the Ionian splayed at his feet. She muttered something he couldn't understand, tears streaming down the sides of her cheeks. The assassin appeared from the shocked crowd.

Summoners yelled at Vessaria and the Councilor yelled back. "My hands are fucking tied! And so are yours!" She bit her lip "I'm sorry..." Beyal looked at Katarina in shock, as she snuck a glance at him. Her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt not to cry.

"Katarina," Swain said as she reached him. Irelia snarled, recognizing the weapon she held as it glinted in the moonlight. "Evaluate my opponent's strength," Swain muttered. Katarina bit her lip, feeling the scar over her eye. Anger flared and she raised the weapon over her head. She paused, looking the Ionian girl in the eyes. She looked back, reaching up towards the glint on the assassin's weapon in a longing manner as if not seeing the same things the assassin was. She despised her and everything about her. She was a monster, a freak- a being that went and ruined the lives of others without a care.

"Kat, stop!" Beyal screamed from the crowd. The assassin inhaled, thrusting the weapon downward an inch. She paused. The Ionian smiled up at her in a ghostly manner.

"DO IT, SOLDIER, THAT'S AN ORDER!" Swain barked from behind her. "Evaluate her strength!" The assassin had a choice. Beyal or Swain; the League of Legends or Noxus.

She bit her lip. "She's stronger then you, you fucking cheat," the assassin muttered, she spun on her heel, the weapon twirling in her hand. Swain brought his cane up to his face, protecting himself. Beatrice, however, wasn't so lucky. The swipe brought the blade neatly across the crow's right wing. She squeaked in pain as Swain stumbled backwards. The sword hummed loudly. Beatrice squawked again, tumbling from her perch on Swain's shoulder and onto the ground, thrashing about wildly before catching fire and dissolving into a black mist which the sword drank like the waters of life.

Swain snarled. "You backstabbing little fucking traito-AGHH!" He collapsed, gripping his leg in pain. Draven spun on his heel and hurled his axe at Katarina with a grunt and an excited grin. Katarina brought the sword in front of her face. The weapon clanged off, spinning wildly into the air. Draven backpedaled for it, only to be lifted from his feet by a snarling tackle from Riven. The Exile wrestled the other weapon away, planting her forehand on Draven's nose, followed by her elbow. Elder Summoner Marten pushed his way out of the crowd and into view.

"ENOUGH!" Turning to Vessaria, he shouted. "Still it!" He shouted again. Vessaria shot him a crooked grin. "STILL IT, GOT DAMM-" The High Counselor was on him. A thin dagger was pressed into his sternum. Marten coughed, shocked. LeBlanc smiled back at him over the weapon before ripping it loose. Draven's axe clattered to the ground, and Marten soon followed.

The exile closed on the pair. "Celene!" She barked, pressing her hands against the wounds. The bleeding was beginning to still on its own, leaving the girl in a slowly expanding red puddle. "FUCK!" She put pressure on the wounds, biting her lip.

Swain pushed himself backward across the stone. The thump of a summoner teleport landed behind him. Summoner Wilhelm, along with Darius and several Noxian soldiers, stepped from the runes. Katarina screamed in frustration, appearing behind the Deceiver in a puff of purple smoke. The Ionian weapon bit into her. LeBlanc winked, the clone falling to the ground. She stepped from behind Darius with a smirk at the assassin. The Fist of Noxus knelt down, hauling Swain to his feet. "Strong," he said flatly. Swain nodded.

"Leblanc, Draven, kill Katarina and return that weapon to me. Remove anyone who interferes." He looked at Darius. "Tell the melters to open fire on Demacia- level it. Wilhelm, get me to the front lines, now." Swain leaned on his head general, weak without the effects of his crow. The group vanished, taking Swain with them.

"Alrighty then, I have the best job," Draven said, getting to his feet, axe in hand once again. He kicked his axe off his boot, rolling it over his shoulder into his hand and hurling it at Katarina. She ducked, shunpo-ing behind him with an enraged snarl. Steel met steel as Draven blocked the strike over his back with his wrist guard. LeBlanc appeared in the reflection of her weapon. She tapped her staff on the ground. Katarina looked over her shoulder at the approaching mass of yellow runes. The spell seems to halt, crackling before exploding, knocking LeBlanc off her feet.

Beyal recovered from his counter and stepped into his spell, sending a blast of manafire at LeBlanc. She zipped to his left, tapping her staff on the ground. An identical blast of manafire closed in on the summoner. He bit his lip, disassembling the spell mid-flight. LeBlanc appeared next to him, pulling the dagger she had just used. She froze with a hum. "FII!" A shout came from the shocked crowd. Summoner Vessaria sprinted from it, her white robe stained red. She clutched her hand against the wound on her stomach, the green glow of healing magic visible as she approached.

Draven snickered, deflecting angry swipes from Katarina. A crackle came from outside her vision. Draven yelped as ropes of yellow light coiled around him, the familiar ring of Demacian magic filling the night air. "FUCK... YOU!" Lux yelled from the crowd, the end of her baton glared at Draven like the sun. Garen grabbed the weapon, forcing it upward. The famous linear pulse of light fired harmlessly into the night sky as Beyal and his team dog piled the man, wrestling the weapon away from him. With a protective snarl, Beyal cocked his fist back and planted it square on the bridge of Draven's nose. A crack of breaking bone echoed across the square.

Kathrine scrambled out of the pile of summoners as the crowd closed in, champions and summoners stepping forward. The woman knelt down next to Marten. The summoner laid still, his mouth ajar. Kathrine bit her lip, fighting back angry tears as she pressed her head to his chest. No heartbeat. She screamed in frustration, scrambling over the dead elder and pressing her hands on top of Riven's. Celene didn't move, her breathing shallow. "I can't save her..." Kathrine muttered. "She's lost too much blood, but fuck me for not trying." She pushed the healing aura over the Ionian.

"Give her some fucking air," Kathrine snarled. The woman smiled weakly, blue tendrils beginning to creep from Celene's fingers, expanding outward like ivy.

"What the fuck happened!?" Vessaria screamed, reaching the group. She stopped, spotting Marten.

"I don't know!" Riven shouted back. The thunk of armored footsteps closed in on them, Garen skidded to a halt, followed by Jarvan and Lux.

"We have more pressing issues. They're marching on Demacia," Katarina muttered, watching the scene in front of her blankly she shifted her eyes to look at Garen, sneaking a sorrowful glance at Beyal. The large man snarled and advanced on her, drawing his sword.

"What did you see, you traitorous litt-"

"Both of you, shut the fuck up!" Beyal put himself in between the pair. Garen glared down at him, the arm holding his sword twitching. "What did Swain say before he left? What's he planning?" Katarina exhaled, the breath shaking with anger.

"He has an army. It's marching for Demacia right this moment. He plans to level the city with Zaunite melters, then make his way to the league and kill everyone here. His goal was to pressure Celene into submitting to him. He would then perform a ritual using this weapon, to bind her and harness her ability. Without her possessing him, he would have eternal life," Katarina finished. Riven bit her lip, tasting blood.

"We need to get to Demacia, now! Get the elderly and children out to sea, arm everyone else! Dauntless Vanguard, attention!" Garen ordered. "Summoners, get us to Demacia!"

"We can't! I need to contain LeBlanc. She killed my staff, and I'm the only one left that can perform spells of that magnitude," Vessaria shouted. Garen swore, turning to the King.

"Oh. don't flatter yourself. summoner." A voice echoed across the ruined square. Syndra drifted lazily towards them. Everyone paused, shivers collectively running up their spines. "It amazes me how weak you all are, can't even preform such child's play. I'll help you in your little ant war, but I want something in return." The sovereign floated lazily. Garen spun around to face her.

"What do you want!? Anything!" He shouted. Syndra scoffed at him, turning her eyes to the Ionian on the ground. Kathrine looked up into the violet eyes as Syndra touched the ground and sank to her knees, her white hair dipping into the pool of blood. Riven gave her a protective look.

"I know you can hear me, sky demon." Her lips curved into an excited smile. "Allow me to be the new instrument." Syndra muttered. The tendrils shifted, coiling around the woman's feet. "You want to hurt him, don't you? Make him feel what everyone here is feeling," Syndra said softly. "Allow me to be the instrument of your lesson, to show him what you and your past can do when their wrath is kindled. Do it." Celene stirred. Syndra spread her arms, looking towards the sky as if offering herself as a sacrifice to a god. The tendrils exploded from the Ionian's body, from her mouth and wounds, throwing Kathrine and Riven away. Their needle tips punched into Syndra's front, electing a moan of pain. After a moment of thrashing blue light, the last of the fibers left the woman's body. Syndra fell backwards, convulsing. The body lay still; everything was still.

Syndra sat up, her face contorted with self-targeting rage. She looked at Earth, then to her new hands. "I should have just agreed with him... but I followed my fucking rules and got her and Marten killed!" Celene screamed; she was shaking. Riven felt a shiver travel up her spine. Giving Kathrine a thankful look, she removed her bloody hands from Earth.

"This isn't your fault, it's his. He did this to her, not you. Swain did THIS to Marten." Riven gestured, flicking blood onto the summoner. "Not you. And if you help us, we can make sure he never does this to anybody ever again," Riven said solemnly. Celene glared at the ground.

"You're right... I'm gonna extinguish him." she pushed herself to her feet. "Garen, where in Demacia do you need to go?" The woman's new voice cracked in what Riven could only imagine was rage.

"To the palace. I need to rally the citizens. As for everyone else, take them to the gate outside the city."

"And the King?"

"The King stays here, under the protection of the summoners."

"Garen Crownguard, I will join my city on the fields of battle," the King spoke up from behind them. Jarvan shook his head frantically at him.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, according to the measured tread, I outrank you during battles. You will remain here," Garen ordered. He nodded at Celene. She wasn't looking, instead focusing intently on Earth. She sighed softly with a weak smile, looking up with dull brown eyes at Celene's new body

"Peace." Earth muttered in Ionian with a dull smile. Celene nodded. "My father, why..? Didn't you tell him what you were?" The question hurt, and Celene flinched. Self-loathing bit at her attention. She forced herself to think of Swain, her anger redirecting away from herself.

She swallowed. "I was afraid," Celene muttered.

Earth let out a weak laugh, grinning brightly, a thin line of red escaping the corner of her mouth. "Don't be afraid. Let go of your control. Just long enough for him to understand what he's done to everyone..." Earth exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes. Kathrine gritted her teeth, slamming her fist on the cobbles. The Celene wrapped Syndra's fingers around the broach, snapping the chain with a quick pull.

"We can grieve later," Katarina spoke up. She turned to Garen. "You have a city to defend." The assassin spun the weapon in her hand, pointing it at Celene. "You're angry, aren't you?"

Celene glared fire at the assassin. Katarina felt her lips curl upward. "Good, that's just what we need to fix this." She glanced at Beyal. "Think of every nasty thing you can and plaster it to his face. Educate him in your cruelty, for he deserves it." She motioned to Earth's body with her head. Beyal blinked. With a deep breath, Celene's trembling stilled. Slowly she nodded, her face betraying nothing of what she was feeling, her eyes betraying everything. Her new fingers turned the brooch in her hand, a smile appearing on his face.

"Educate him in my cruelty..." Celene muttered to herself, staring into the glimmering gold object as it reflected the lantern light.

"She's right... You and the Vanguard get everyone out of the crossfire. I'll deal with Swain. Vessaria, you get ready for a still as soon as possible, let's see how much blood we can save," Celene added on, speaking up. The Ionian got to her feet, closing her eyes. Everyone's hairs stood on end as the ground beneath them all began to glow blue. "Katarina." The assassin looked up, white knuckled around her weapon. "I had a conversation with Nocturne a few months back... Your father is alive. I think I owe you an apology, for your eye… and everything else."

She failed to hide her astonishment, looking at Beyal over her shoulder. "Just get me Swain. I would like to personally extract that information," she muttered. Celene nodded.

"Alright. Riven?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." She unwove, a few gasps followed as the summoners began to do the same, slowly at first, before bathing the square in drifting azure fibers.

–

Swain limped on his cane. "Get those weapons loaded and ready to fire!" Darius barked. The soldiers in the massive artillery nodded, quickening the pace. The lights of Demacia were in sight. "You smell that, General?" Darius said to Swain. "It's judgment... for the weak." Swain grimaced, the pain in his leg biting at him viciously, the wound that had never healed coming back to haunt him with impunity. LeBlanc stepped from behind the man, causing Wilhelm to jump in surprise.

"Indeed it is..." She muttered, giving Swain a condescending look. Her hand left her cloak, holding the other piece of the puzzle; a nexus fragment, roughly the size of a small pebble. The hand turned over, dropping the object lazily into Wilhelm's hand. Wilhelm opened his mouth to reply with a blink. She was gone.

**Author's Notes: Hopefully Katarina's heel face turn wasn't OOC. She always struck me as someone who wouldn't like Swain anyways. MAAARRTTTEEENNN D:! IM SORRY! But the show much go on, another chapter next Saturday. R&R Please.**


	15. And the World Turns to Ash

**Author's Notes: And chaos ensues. This chapter has been through so much revision, it used to be combined with the last chapter. I ended up splitting them and I'm glad I did because it allowed me to add a lot more interesting stuff and foreshadowing. The scene in the last chapter where Lee Sin was introduced was an example. Hopefully you guys enjoy this. **

Chapter 15

And the World Turns to Ash

Garen was running before his feet even in the ground. He took off faster than he ever had in his life towards the bell tower. "Start knocking on doors!" He yelled behind him to his troops. The men got shakily to their feet, not being used to how teleportation shifted the contents of one's stomach. He ran, knocking people out of the way as he turned the corner into the district. Garen slammed into the door of the bell tower, which crumbled against his armored shoulder. He didn't wait, hurrying up the stairs. Finally, he reached it- the heavy rope that hung from the bell. The Demacian threw himself against it, his gauntleted fingers coiling around. He pulled. The city froze, the dreaded sound echoing across the streets. Garen didn't let up.

"Battle stations!" The Vanguard screamed over and over, running through the streets. Horse drawn carts full of weapons and shields raced through every district of the city to the chime of the bell. Men in the back of the carts pushed objects of war onto the ground as they passed the hurrying populace. This was no drill. The bell hadn't stopped. The docks were alive; anyone too young or too old to lift a sword was urged hastily onto any ship that could be found and pushed out to sea. The bell kept ringing.

Lord Crownguard rushed outside, the bell chimed relentlessly. Everyone was either rushing into their houses to retrieve their weapons, or leaving there houses, sword in hand. _What in the hell happened,_ the man thought, turning on his heel and sprinting into the manor for his sword.

Garen's fingers finally slipped from the bell. The moon was high in the sky. He was covered in sweat, his body screaming for him to stop. He had to get to the lines and organize the men; without the King, only he and Jarvan remained to command the troop. Garen gritted his teeth, rushing down the stairs. After fifteen minutes of constant sprinting, he reached it. The city gates were bustling with people trying to squeeze by, every single one of them clutching a sword and shield. All of them looked confused and terrified. Garen pushed his way through, making it to the front with ease.

Jarvan stood motionless. Celene floated next to him, her new hair drifting in the breeze. Garen felt his jaw drop. The lights in the night spanned miles. Hundreds of war drums echoed across the valley. His run subsided, leaving him in between the pair.

"Garen... what do you think we should do..." Jarvan asked quietly, looking at his childhood friend. Garen looked from Celene to the prince.

"We just need to fight," he said powerfully.

"They will be in range before you can rally to fight," Celene muttered. She was furious but kept the emotion pinned back, knowing she would need it. "No more rules... No more games. The respite has ended," the Ionian said to herself. "Don't follow me." Celene exhaled loudly. The sound seemed to echo endlessly in the night. Her chest burned, her demon clambering to escape. _Now?_ The voice in the back of her head asked. _No._ Hundreds of soft inhales rolled from behind her as everyone's skin bristled.

"Celene, what are you doing?!" Lux's voice cut across the silence, the girl sprinting from the lines up to them, her dress getting covered in mud.

"I'm going to destroy them," Celene said calmly.

"Don't be an idiot. That's an army!"

"Earth lit a fire in my heart, Lux, a fire that will blacken the earth. There is nothing more dangerous to me than inspiration. Just watch," Celene said, her lips curving upwards at the girl into her now signature smirk. "Just stand and watch." She vanished. Garen gritted his teeth. He didn't want to lose any more friends.

"She's like a spring," Lux muttered softly. "Just coil her up and let her go..." Lux swallowed. "We should hold fast- many will die if we charge down into their line of fire."

"Celene is going to die if we don't," Garen muttered.

Lux shot him one of the most unnerving smiles he had ever seen. "Remember what just happened? Celene can't truly die."

–

Celene's foot met the bare ground. Her new body sank into the mud. The collective marching of thousands of armored men filled her ears. Shouts could be heard. Celene looked up. Torch light lit the army that filled her vision, fast approaching.

"Halt!" The order came over a hextech megaphone- Swain's voice. His breathing was labored. "Have you come to reconsider, monster?" Swain asked. She scanned, searching for him. _Now?_

_No. Let go._

"I don't want to do what I'm about to, Swain; you have one chance to retreat," Celene pleaded. Her new voice cracked. One final attempt. Her rules strained themselves, her morality cracking under the pressure. The beast in the back of her mind clawed ruthlessly. _Now!?_

_No. Stop controlling yourself._ Her teeth closed on her lip, her emotions fighting each other.

"You coward!" Came back at her, mixed with a laugh- thousands of collective laughs. The lines began to advance again. Celene could make out faces behind helmets, the whites of eyes. "FORWARD!" The order came and the men broke into a run. Celene stood her ground. _NOW?!_

She sighed, giving in. The conflict stilled, the stigma she had accumulated over all her years receding away out of sight. Her eyes turned up to the wall of men approaching her. The world was silent. The guilt flooded her, transforming into anger, then to energy. Her skin bristled. "Yes," she muttered. The corners of her mouth curved upward. Celene put the brooch to her lips, letting her demon loose from its cage. She had promised to never use it again, promised many times over, but this time was different. She was calm as a lake, her heart hardly beating. The demon brought peace, albeit a twisted peace. Justice and retribution, peace and balance, war and murder, justification and redemption, all about to be committed at once without a second thought- Riven came to mind.

"A sword mirrors its owner. How true, but I lied. THIS is my sword. I turned sparks to fire, and the world burns in the palm of my hand," Celene said with a ghostly smile.

The brooch split neatly down the center. It dissolved into a black liquid, smooth and featureless like tar. It writhed in her hand, expanding until it touched the ground, thrashing wildly like an animal in a sack. Its scream followed, an ancient sound that signaled the fall of her empire, the end of her rule, and the death of her love. The soldiers were within thirty feet of her, weapons held high. Celene exhaled, allowing the mana to explode through her body, her control waning as she gave in completely. A sadistic smile sprouted on her lips. No thought, no feelings, just whim as she swung her arm in front of her, taking the writhing oil with it, riding her whim like a steed in a charge towards the madness of war that she would drown herself in and be redeemed, allowing the insanity to absolve her of her mistakes like fire.

"Peace," she muttered. The substance extended forward all at once into the Noxian lines with a crash, splintering shields. Bones cracked as the wave of black liquid surged deeper into the advancing formation, spreading through like ivy. It swelled, rolling over troops, muffling screams of pain as black oily hands grasped at anyone lucky enough to escape the first swing. Yells of pain and terror filled the night air as the hands grabbed hold of men and dragged them into the blackness, forcing its way into them and drowning, smothering, removing pieces.

The line faltered. Celene whipped her fingers, tendrils of blue shooting from the black liquid as it flowed forward through the dirt. "Peace!" Celene spoke forcefully her voice shacking. More screams as the blue fibers punched through armor and flesh, hooking men like fish and pulling them into the raising mass of black oily figures. Blue exploded from her back, streaking into the disorganized army, whipping and thrashing wildly. Steel spit with a ring as the fibers cleaved there way haphazardly through weapons, soldiers, and horses.

"PEACE!" She screamed. Featureless black beings pulled themselves from the tar-covered ground as if escaping from quicksand, advancing in waves towards the soldiers. The Noxians panicked, striking at Celene's minions with weapons that passed through with a splash. The masses folded around weapons, sporting arms were heads had previously been, grabbing and clawing at anything unlucky enough to touch them, ripping limbs from torsos with unnerving ease.

"Fire!" Swain shouted to the melter crew. From his perch on top of the lead melter rig, he could see his front line in full fighting retreat against enemies they could not kill. The ring of spells filled the air as the battalion of battle mages let loss at their singular attacker. Balls of green mana-fire hurtled towards the Ionian, curving spastically around her and into the night. Syndra's control was incredible; the mage truly had no idea what she had. Celene mused as the Noxian spells arched around her en masse. A group of soldiers chopped their way through the featureless oily monsters, advancing on Celene. The Ionian gave them a look, raising her hand. The air protested, dust and mud being ripped from the ground as the men screamed, bones breaking with explosive force as they collapsed into a crumpled heap.

"FALL BACK! RUN!" Shouts punched through the chaos, the maddening screeching of her weapon drowning them out with ease. The melters leveled their sights on the woman. Without a second thought, the man pulled the cord. The weapon fired with a deafening crack, hurling a jellied ball of chemical weaponry at Celene. Her weapon reacted. The oil arched up from the ground into a wall. The melter blast exploded against it, showering Swain's troops in chemicals. It countered, bolting with a liquid divergence over the Noxian line and slamming into the lead melter. The groan of warping metal and splintering wood filled the air. The crew hopped from their positions and began to flee as the oily weapon ripped the Zaunite war machine apart. The Ionian spared it a glance as she drifted slowly towards Swain, blue fibers hacking apart anything that dared get close as her "army" advanced and though _it_ paled in size by comparison, it had advantages in other fields.

"Grand General!" Darius shouted, his elite platoon forming a line as the army of oil advanced effortlessly through the Noxian ranks. "We can't reach her! Orders?!" The Fist of Noxus shouted.

"Stand together, men!" The phalanx captain shouted as the oil army crashed into the line, washing over them and dragging them into its writhing, clawing depths. It was like fighting an ocean. Swain stared. Celene's eyes lay hidden behind a blindingly bright blue ring that circled her head, illuminating the Noxian army in aqua sunlight. Her face displayed nothing but fury. "ORDERS!?" Darius shouted again. Swain gritted his teeth, his mind racing over the situation. _The__ melters __are__ useless. Magic glance__s__off;__ my warriors are dying in droves._ His mouth tightened into a line. _The weapon was still at __the Institute;__ Wilhelm had turned to flee at the first sign of trouble._ A spark of panic ignited. "_What__ do we do?__"_ A voice in the back of his mind asked._ "WHAT DO I-__"_

"Do?" Came drifting teasingly from behind him. Celene's hand wrapped his throat. Her touch burned. "...I understand now, much to your undoing," she muttered, her smile so large it pained her cheeks. He was hurled from the rig onto the ground. Swain howled in pain, feeling his bad knee brake on the trampled mud. Darius turned, charging the woman with his axe above his head. He leaped, intent on chopping her in two as if she were a piece of firewood.

Celene encircled her arm with blue fibers, raising it above her head. The axe blade met her palm with a dull thunk. She couldn't help but leer at the man's dumbfounded expression. The Fist of Noxus attempted to rip the weapon free of her grasp; her smile grew to an inhuman size. Darius released the axe, cocking his fist back and thrusting it at the woman's face. It met a wall of blue strand, wrapping neatly around the gauntlet. Darius grimaced as his fingers broke with a groan of protest from his armor. Celene cocked her head sadistically, raising Syndra's thin finger to the man's lips. Her fingertips began to glimmer, pulling the light from around her.

A crackling of summoner magic came from behind her. Summoner Wilhelm parted his hands, a nexus fragment hovering in front of him. "Hang on, sir!" The fragment brightened into a blue sphere. Wilhelm bit his lip, finding Celene's mentality in the chaos and pulling it forward. He had her- it would be just that simple. Wilhelm grinned. _Swain is going to see __I'__m not weak, __I'm strong!_ He reassured himself and forced the mental connection over the girl.

The spell stalled in Celene's hand. Confused, she blinked just in time for the blue haze to settle over her vision. A spark of anger ignited as her arm lowered itself. Darius spotted the mage Celene had not, a smile splitting his lips. He got to his feet as Celene turned her weapon inwards and thrust it at her stomach against her will. The blade folded around her harmlessly, unwilling to harm its master. Wilhelm blinked and gritted his teeth, doing his best to ignore the enraged girl ripping at the mental connection. "_She __can't__break__ me. YOU __CAN'T__ BEAT ME!"_ Wilhelm shot back over the tether as Darius bent down to retrieve his axe. The oily figures reached them, intent on defending there master. Darius snarled, splitting the closest neatly in two only for it to rejoin itself haphazardly and lunge.

The thump of the summoner teleport caught Garen's attention. Vessaria and most of the League of Legends stood at her back. She opened her mouth to speak just in time to be shoved out for the way by Katarina, whom broke into a sprint down the hill towards the chaos. Beyal broke from formation, following suit after her to the best of his ability, catching the Noxian after a few paces and grabbing her. "Kat, calm down!" The woman snarled with a thrash before remaining still.

"Celene's in trouble. I just tried to pull her up on tether and I can't, someone else has her pinned," Vessaria said forcefully. She began to mutter under her breath, the summoners formed into a ring around her out of rehearsed habit. Garen bit his lip.

"Garen..." The voice belonged to Lux. She frowned. "I'm not losing any more friends tonight."

"Then you may want this." Vessaria produced Lux's baton from inside her cloak. The spell began to buzz, pulling the mana from the surrounding area to fuel the peace. Lux snatched it with a smile, spotting her parents in the phalanx for but a moment as she turned to the rolling black mass. The lead melter rig was her target- no more would die tonight. Garen found himself biting the inside of his lip. Lux pointed the weapon towards her target, noting with distaste how shaky her hand was over such a range. She let go of the baton, allowing it to drift towards her chest as she gathered the mana needed for her famous signature spell. The baton began to rotate in front of her like a propeller, her hair drifting upwards against gravity as her feet left the ground. Her blue eyes attempted to focus on an object more than a mile away as the spell reached critical mass. She felt herself smile. "Dema... cia~" She muttered over her hair raising spell and released.

"Defend the summoner, men!" One of the soldiers shouted, the remaining elite guard collapsed into a phalanx between Wilhelm and their attacker. The battle mage's retaliated, protecting their commander. A volley of green balls of mana fire arced through the night. Celene's weapon stretched itself into their path, doing the same with Darius's axe as it had been for the last minute. She snarled internally, throwing every insult and threat she could think of the summoner's way, anything to distract him. A glimmer caught her eye, a glare over Darius's right shoulder. It exploded, sending a blinding trail of orange arching across the distance. Wilhelm flinched and lost his balance as the spell put a neat hole in the phalanx of soldiers to his left. The melter closest to him exploded with a deafening bang, sending chemicals and burning wood everywhere.

"I can do this all day," Lux leered, setting up for another. She turned her attention from Garen, doing her best to hide the fact that she was sweating.

"I'd say you're a bit out of your effective range, Luxanna." Caitlyn's disconnected tone drifted over the roar of the still. Lux snuck a look at the woman. "Werhan was nice enough to grab this for me." Caitlyn brought the rifle into Lux's field of vision. She knelt down. "Now what are we shooting at.?"

Lux licked her lips; her second spell was approaching critical mass. "The melter rigs." Lux pointed. Caitlyn nodded, peering at the army. "Do you see that summoner?" Caitlyn asked, tilting her head, the blue speck catching her attuned eyes.

Lux scanned for a moment, silent until the blue light caught her eye. "Yes. Vessaria, did he betray us?"

Lux asked over the hum of her spell.

"I'm pretty sure; he's how Swain's been getting around," Vessaria replied with a huff.

"How about some wartime justice, then?" Caitlyn asked disconnectedly, to which Vessaria said nothing. The sheriff shrugged.

"He looks rather terrified." Caitlyn's lips curved into a smile. "How about I get him while you keep the melters from firing on us?" Caitlyn leveled her weapon, which telescoped to its full length, the lenses on its barrel and rigged to Caitlyn's hat unfolding into a neat array. Lux nodded, sneaking a look at Garen

"Sir, I have the summoners zeroed, orders!" The lead melter operator screamed to Darius. Darius shot him an annoyed look, splitting the black figure in front of him in two with his axe, only for it to reform and thrust itself in front of its master. "Just fire, you coward!" Darius bellowed at him, swinging again in frustration. Though she was helpless her weapon was defending her rather well on its own. The man bit his lip, gripping the cord. A blink of light caught his eye from the Demacian lines. A beam of blinding white light arced through the center of the melter with a crack. Swain, snarled, watching with annoying helplessness as the Demacian teenager singlehandedly dismantled his offense

Darius turned to see the man tumble from the melter and out of view as Celene weapon lashed out angrily, the Ionian remained still, her face blank. He gritted his teeth and swiped at the black oily figure again. It was her weapon that was the problem, not her. He took a step backward. "Focus the melters on her, everyone step away!" he shouted. The chaos raged around the Noxian commander as the weapon wreaked havoc on his troops regardless of its master being immobilized. He needed to buy time for his brother to retrieve the binding blade; it was their only chance of stopping her.

"I can't see him," Caitlyn mumbled, "there's too much smoke."

Lux cracked a smile. "Sorry." Caitlyn returned the expression, panning her rifle slightly to the right and firing. The rig operator on the next melter in the line tumbled from his station.

"I can see Celene." Caitlyn said flatly "she's motionless, her expression blank, I think that summoner is keeping her still. Lux huffed, loosing her third spell. Her aim was degrading; this one only nicked the next rig, though that was enough.

"She should be dead then," Garen boomed, stomping forward between Caitlyn and his sister.

"I agree, but... she's not, something protecting her, the same thing that's engaging the Noxians." Caitlyn paused. She blinked, making sure her eyes were working properly. "It looks like oil... some manner of summoning spell, I would guess." The sheriff fired again. Garen shot her a look.

"We need to free her of the summoner's control," Garen said, turning to Jarvan, who nodded.

"I would but I don't have a shot," Caitlyn pointed out.

"I could do it..." A voice drifted from behind the pair. Katarina shot Garen a look. "I just need to get down there."

Garen's lips curved into a blunt smile only he could make. "Odd, a Noxian offering to kill their own troops to help Demacia." Garen's eyes narrowed; Katarina's mirrored him.

"Drop your paranoid bullshit for just one minute." Katarina cracked a small smile. "Besides, didn't you defend me from _your_ own troops while I was in this city?" Her thin eyebrows climbed higher towards her hairline, Garen said nothing. "Well, consider this a thank you."

"Kat, I can get you down there." Beyal spoke up from the ring, Vessaria shot him a look, her mouth forming into a line. Attempting to still as quickly as possible was the most logical way to resolve this but it was hardly the safest. Should the melters fire, it would all be for nothing.

"Go. Werhan, go with him, I know you two trust each other. That teleportation spell is taxing, I don't want you getting trapped down there should you run low on mana." Werhan blinked, his nerves now clearly visible on his face. His team shot him reassuring looks.

"Alright, what do you need me to do?" Werhan broke formation with Beyal, shooting Katarina a nervous look. To his surprise she smiled back at him.

"Nothing like going to war with your friends at your back," the assassin mused. Vessaria shifted uncomfortably.

"Indeed, now if you don't mind. I'm going with you." Riven's hand landed on Werhan's shoulder. She swallowed nervously. "It was stupid of her to go by herself." Riven's unique sigh followed, besides, I have a bone to pick with whatever monster brought melters into this. Werhan nodded.

"I knew there was some Noxian left in you, you coward." Katarina shot Riven a smile, the Exile's knuckles whitened around her sword.

"Hardly..." she muttered. "Beyal, put us right on top of Celene, if you please." He nodded.

"Kat, be careful- you don't need any more scars," Beyal poked at her. She crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows.

"You wouldn't look half bad with a few."She shot back. Beyal smirked, forcing a large amount of his mana into the spell, dispite the range being short it was very taxing for the high summoner to actually perform. The buzz of magic filled the air, only broken by a crack from Caitlyn's rifle.

"I've got your back you four," the sheriff said flatly. "Break a leg." The buzzing stopped and they were gone.

Darius huffed, backing away from the Ionian. _Useless summoner!__H__e controls her every action but __can't__ even kill her. _The thump of a summoner teleport tore him from his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder. Katarina grinned as she drove her cutlass into the man's neck. Darius blinked it surprise. She pushed off him, leaping for the closest soldier loyal to Swain. The man fell while Darius remained upright. She rolled off him, converting to energy from her swing laterally and began to spin. The assassin went whirling through the Noxian line towards the summoner. The thunk of metal striking stone echoed passed her, over the screams and gurgles that always followed a death lotus.

Darius snapped his eyes forward just in time to block a staggeringly powerful blow from a woman he hadn't seen in a very long time. "NEVER AGAIN!" Riven screamed over the chaos, swinging her fully reformed, five foot stone blade wildly down at the Fist of Noxus. He was in between her and the melters- it was unacceptable. His knees buckled from the force of the blow. He snarled, pushing her away in an attempt to preserve his greater reach and countered. He was stronger, but Riven was faster, avoiding the blow with almost comical ease. Darius glared and swiped again, forcing the Exile to tumble out of the way. Riven gritted her teeth readjusting his grip as Darius ripped away from the oily figure that gripped his arm. Riven ducked a countering swing from him and lunged, a net of blue strands caught her weapon, Celene's hand wrapped around her wrist as the girl metalized in front of her. Riven ripped her arm free, narrowly avoiding a second swing. The exile couldn't fight a two on one, not with both opponents being as dangerous as her. A wall of blue strands exploded from the Ionian, snaking towards Riven, Riven bit her lip a pulse of green light erupting from her sword. Darius flinched; Celene was taken clean off her feet. She caught Katarina out of the corner of her eye, the woman carving a bloody swath towards Wilhelm, Beyal in tow doing his best to keep up. She wasn't the answer. The Exile cracked a grin as an idea sprung forth; she snuck a look behind her at Werhan. The chubby summoner was exchanging spells with one of the Noxian battle mages, using the oily army as a buffer.

Wilhelm shifted his eyes over his orb, the screams were getting closer, the soldiers in front of him moving to defend against a threat he couldn't see. The final rank split as two soldiers fell. Wilhelm felt his chest tighten as Katarina came sprinting from the formation, green eyes locked on his, blood dripping from her weapons and hair. The summoner shifted his control, Celene could wait, the Noxian assassin posed a more current threat to his life. His fingers curled, focusing his summoner energy already at use into a tangible blast. He hurled it as the gap was quickly closed. The spell sailed directly towards the assassin only for it to stop in midair, it cracked dangerously. Beyal locked his attention with Wilhelm's, attempting to rip control of the spell from him. He knew he would never be able to, Wilhelm was a very talented mage but it didn't matter, all he needed was time for Katarina to safely get close; in this case, that was seconds.

The mousy man squeaked, stumbling out of Katarina's wide swing in a way only a wizard could. The Assassin didn't let up, ducking a hastily crafted blast of mana-fire that singed her hair and darting inside the man's guard. The familiar scrape of her weapon striking bone ran up her arm as Wilhelm brought his hands to the weapon jammed into his stomach. Katarina's smile grew as she twisted to weapon and pulled it loose. To her surprise the mage remained upright. He huffed, looking at her angrily.

"J-just because I'm small doesn't mean I-I'm weak," he stammered, glancing at the red fluid pouring from his stomach over his hand. "At least kill me pr-properly, whore." He drew a shaky breath, a smile sneaking onto his face. Katarina raised an eyebrow.

"Kat pay attention!" Beyal screamed from behind her. She spun to see the summoner stumble to avoid a wave of snaking blue tendrils. Celene vanished, her foot colliding with the side of Katarina's head. The assassin's eyes snapped up. She inhaled sharply, shunpoing away from the wave of blue that had begun to overshadow her and behind the summoner. The Ionian was right on top of her, disappearing as well, placing herself between Wilhelm and his attacker. Celene's teeth closed on Katarina's collar bone, her new hands grabbing the woman by the hair, the tendrils cocked back, intent on impaling the red head.

Beyal bit his lip, focusing his remaining mana and hurriedly forming a mental connection. Localized summoning was his goal, or a "flash" for short. The assassin vanished in a blast of yellow light. Beyal assumed brief control to keep the redhead from becoming disoriented by the sudden change of place. She sank into a spin. He cracked the connection, allowing the assassin control once again. Celene wove the blue strands into a solid barrier between Katarina and Wilhelm. The first of the redheads throwing knives bounced off with a clang, the seconding flying over Beyal's shoulder into the soldier that had just engaged him. Her hands fell to her belt, she was out of throwing knives- even her keepsake faulty one had been expended. Katarina hoped from the death lotus and shunpoed behind Celene's barrier. Celene dropped the wall as she stepped into a swing, her oily weapon hurdling towards Katarina. The assassin brought her blade up to intercept. The two weapons never touched as Celene's curved around the cutlass in a horseshoe shape and jammed into the summoner's chest.

Wilhelm coughed, black fluid exploding from his mouth. He blinked oily tears from his eyes. His nerves felt like wax, melting under a candle flame as his control over the woman faded. She blinked, pulling the weapon from him tenderly, attempting not to cause pain. The summoner fell to the ground at her feet with a sigh, his robes deflating as oil leaked onto the dirt. Katarina and Beyal exchanged shocked expressions.

"Well." Beyal managed, his hand covering the deep gash on his forehead one of the guard had given him, panning his eyes around the chaos the black weapon continued to create. The Noxians had begun to splinter, fighting deep within their own lines.

"I try not to use it." Celene said flaty, running her eyes questioningly over the assassin that had freed her. Her lips curved upwards, blue eyes flicking from her to Beyal and back as two and two were put together. "Shall we, cocoa fingers?" Celene propped her unique weapon on her shoulder, stepping past the assassin towards the disarray of soldiers before dissolving into blue fibers.

Darius snapped his eyes to the monster behind him. Blue eyes narrowed angrily as she gave her sword a flick. Dread welled up inside the Fist of Noxus as he opened his mouth to call the hated order. "Reatr-" The speech stopped. He ordered his eyes to blink- they disobeyed. He stared frozen as Celene shot him a smile.

A sound cracked through Darius's head as his vision became framed in a blue haze. "That will teach you, you over-powered fuck!" Werhan's voice split through his head. Darius body swatted one of his his own soldiers away from the Exile. Riven shoved him and Celene aside, spotting Swain and taking off after him, her reformed sword glowing.

"AGHHH!" One of the Noxian elite guards thrust his pike into the Celene's back. Syndra's raw energy proved too much for the simple killing tool. The head of the weapon melted as it met her skin, the wooden handle catching fire in his hands. Celene ignored the soldier, Turning and floating past him in Swains direction. She was in no mood. The soldier attempted to club her over the back of the head with the remains of his pike. A whipping fiber caught him mid swing, removing the wooden poll from his grasp. He took a step back. Celene leered at him over her shoulder. Her sword acted. Oil clambered from the dirt up the man's leg. He screamed as it crushed the bones in his ankle and pulled him away into the maelstrom of writhing black figures leaving thin trails in the mud where he dug his fingers in. She gave Riven a featureless look that the Exile returned fire with shock.

The army was beginning to gain ground, cowordinating soldier to soldier to slowly force the oily monsters into a loosely packed group, in the middle of which was Celene. Her eyes fell to Swain. The man forced himself to his feet on his good leg, shakily pulling the Sword from his cane. His eyes flicked to Riven, then to Celene. Eyebrows touched Syndra's white hair as another blast of light flew into a group of Soldiers from the Demacian line. Riven spun, intercepting a challenging strike of one of Swains remaining elite guard. She grunted, expressing her annoyance towards opponents with smaller, faster weapons.

Swain yelled, raising his morale as he cocked the weapon over his hand and with a short lunge, brought it down on the Ionian's shoulder for the second time that night. Celene moved, intercepting the blow lazily. The blade of her sword contorted, a hand shot from it to Swain's neck. Its new lower body twisted with his sword embedded in it, the blade split with a neat snap as Swain was removed from the ground and hurled backward. Celene looked at the figure touching her hand sternly, it sank away. "You're lucky Vessaria has good timing," she muttered to Swain with a smirk. Everything slowed, and Celene could feel the spell coming and closed her eyes.

"FII!" Echoed across the valley through the night. Vessaria stood in the center of a ring of two hundred summoners and junior summoners, runes spreading across the floor of the valley like snakes, lighting everything in a ghostly blue glow. Vessaria lowered her hands, leaving the nexus fragment hovered buzzing in the air- the spell had worked. All was still and silent.

Garen pointed, breathing a sigh of relief. All the Demacian troops could see were flashes of light from spells and melter blasts. A high screeching sound had coated the valley for the past few minutes, like a tormented animal. The shouts and screams of Noxian troops punched through the screeching. But now, all was silent. The bubble of magical energy covered the valley, freezing the action inside like an eerie model.

Vessaria looked up, her skin gleaming with sweat she brought her eyes to Caitlyn and Lux. "Order is restored," she said flatly. "I would advise you stay here and tend to your city," she finished, marching past Garen towards the still.

Vessaria descended into the valley. They left the tree line, the battle frozen in time now in full view. Summoners murmured and gasped. Noxian troops being drowned, swallowed, crushed and ripped to pieces, all sat frozen in time. Katarina bit her lip. Riven gasped, covering her mouth. Gristly contorted figures clambered over each other to reach the fleeing Noxian soldiers, like men covered in black tar, gleaming blue in the magical light.

Werhan leaned in, inspecting one of the black figures as it grappled with a terrified-looking young man, whose helmet had been knocked aside to show his face. He was younger than Beyal. Werhan leaned in reaching out to touch the black figure. Beyal grabbed his wrist. "Don't touch that shit; you have no idea what the fuck that is." Werhan shot him a look, giving the scene in front of him a final brief examination before moving on with the rest. Beyal sighed, setting his hand on Katarina's shoulder to remove her from the still. She came screaming into life, just about to bring her cutlass down on one of her former comrades. He shot her a smile and made his way after Werhan.

"So that's it then?" a voice carried across the silent plane. Everyone froze. Celene stood over Swains frozen form, looking down at him with blindingly bright blue eyes. Her gaze shifted to the summoners. Weapons were drawn, hands raised in defense and fear. She was unaffected by the still. Something Vessaria had never seen in her life. Her hand fell to Riven, who was mid sprint, closing on Swain's prone form. She stumbled into reality, looking around confused before being struck by understanding and lowering her weapon.

"how..." Vessaria asked, shocked. Celene sighed, looking at her sword.

"Think about how long forever is, High Councilor. Now, think about everything you can learn in that time," Celene said flatly, a satisfied smile on her lips. She took a step, emitting a chilly breeze, blowing hoods from heads.

She blinked. "The League will take it from here," Vessaria said forcefully, approaching the woman. Celene flicked the wrist the oil seemed to extend from, faint lines of glowing blue barely visible past the substance. The screaming of the weapon returned with deafening force. Vessaria raised her hands, on her guard. Everyone else followed suit with anything they had. Celene let off a dull smile, the oily figures lumbering away from battle towards the summoners. Werhan pressed himself into the group. It was much creepier when it looked at him. The monster flicked her wrist again. All the figures liquefied, sinking into puddles of black sludge to be pulled in lines back towards Celene's hand as if she were a plant, eagerly lapping it up.

She took a step, her magical presence reseeding with a sigh, the tendrils retracting and her eyes dimming from a vibrant ring around her eyes to a faint ambient glow; for the moment the monster sat on the edge of her control. She looked at Riven, sporting a new red gash on her shoulder, then to Katarina then turned to Swain. Kneeing down, placing her hand on the man's head. He came screaming and thrashing into life. He panicked, scrambling backward away from Celene whom made no attempt to stop him.

"Where are you holding Katarina's father?" Celene asked coolly. Swain blinked, looking around. His forces were frozen in time, to his left, summoner Vessaria and roughly half the League of Legends, all looking very angry. Katarina glared at him poisonously, drumming her fingers on her retrieved weapons. Beyal didn't have to know her to tell she was barely controlling herself. Celene stood up, getting impatient. "Where is he?" Swain looked at her, he exhaled, calming himself. He stared at her flatly, saying nothing. The Ionian's eye twitched, flashing her teeth dangerously. She slammed the bottom of her foot into his broken knee with a snarl. A pained cry echoed back to her. "Tell me before I go in there and figure it out!" She pressed the thin oily tip of her weapon against Swain's chest, where it spasmed impatiently.

Swain exhaled heavily. "I suppose you win. Fine. He is being held in the military prison in Lower City Noxus under a light guard."

"Good. Vessaria, I'll be back in a moment," Celene said flatly.

The summoner extended a hand after her, blinking in surprise. "Wait a minute- he has to be returned to the League for questioning." Celene ignored her. She grabbed Swain by the arm and vanished, taking him with her after a moment of disassembly with a curse from the high councilor.

The Ionian was surrounded by pure darkness, a wooden door at her back. A presence attempted to force its way into her head. She blinked, bolstering her mental defenses against the assault.

"Youuu again," Nocturne wheezed. "And another one, the Grand General- defeated with his army by one small Ionian." Nocturne's rasping laughter filled the room.

"You knew," Celene muttered. "This whole time, you knew."

"Yess." Nocturne paused. "How did it feel? Letting loose that weapon again to defend some heart lightening idle, injustice to stop injustice," he rasped. She spun the weapon over her knuckles into her grip again.

"I wouldn't call it injustice. He was a spark that needed to be stamped out before he destroyed everything."

"Oh, so noble... Destroyed, just like you did? How ironic," Nocturne wheezed- if he could be, he would be smirking.

Celene peered down at Noxian at her feet. Her lips curled upward. Irony. "That was a long time ago."

"All you are is time- that is all you have that truly belongs to you," Nocturne said flatly. Celene smiled.

"And what do you have?" She shot back, pointing at the nightmare with her oily sword. A low rasping laugh filled the chamber.

"A collection of memories and dreams, a vast collection beyond what you can fathom." The answer leaked of cold pride. "Tell me, what are you going to do without a body of your own? Are you finally going to submit and use the one in your hand? That was originally its intended purpose was it not? To join the people with Aidric? " Nocturne asked, his voice like broken glass. Celene stood silent for a long moment.

"No, I won't." The white eyes narrowed. "Because if I did, I would be just like you." Celene lowered the weapon to her side, rubbing her thumb against the fluid blade.

A rasping chuckle leaked from the darkness, a clink of chains. "How very… human of you."

"Do you feel guilty, Swain? For all the damage you've done? The cruelty inflicted on others?" Swain shot his eyes to her with a scowl. Celene narrowed her eyes mercilessly.

Celene throw a glance in Nocturne's direction and leaned in. The General remained silence in the face of the shining blue eyes, damming a lake of what he guessed was rage. "Then let me show you just how cruel I can be," Celene muttered, her voice cracking. The sword changed shape in her hand, coiling around Swain's neck like a rope. His old fingers shot to the coils, refusing to make a sound- doing such would show weakness. Celene knelt down, pinning his chin in her fingers. Her lips parted to reveal a mass of shining blue fibers. Her eyes narrowed, fully intent on making what she was about to do as uncomfortable as possible. She paused, watching Swain's eyes widen. The mass erupted forth, jamming needle sharp tips through the General's cheeks, pushing their way behind his eyes. Celene bit down on her self-control, not allowing the possession to complete. Her lips curled as he struggled against his oily bindings, his panicked thoughts drowning out Nocturne's cackling laughter. She sifted, ignoring the flickering images of his downtrodden childhood, his house burning down at a young age, his old dog finally giving in to infection. Celene could see his wrinkled knuckles as he scrawled away at the order for general Du Couteau's "discreet arrest," hear the tapping of his boots against the stone of the prison floor. She thrust him away, forcibly breaking the connection. Swain slid backward across the stone floor towards the center of the room. Celene swallowed the lump in her throat, shooting glare Swain had no choice but to cower from. She began to dissolve, her eyes never once leaving his. Without the blue glow he was left to the darkness.

Movement came from behind him. "How can you win, if you even know the game you play, Human?" Nocturne cackled lowly, rising in pitch until it was practically a scream. "You have no comprehension of how lucky you are, lucky that the being you encountered is the ONLY one of us who cares."

_Oh god__,_Swain uttered mentally, refusing to give the nightmare a moral victory. A cackle erupted from the center of the room, which stilled after reaching a low chuckle as white featureless eyes pinned themselves to his face.

"There is no god today." Nocturne drew a rasping breath. "Just me."

Celene stepped onto the frozen stone; it bit at Syndra's bare feet causing her to shiver. Prisoners rattled bars and whistled at her appearance. "Stop!" One of the guards shouted. Celene looked at him. He was lifted from his feet and slammed with a grunt into the opposite wall before flopping to the ground. She stepped over him, looking through each cell until finally, near the end of the block. She recognized him from all those year ago, while she was hunting Katarina. General Du Couteau. He was bound to the wall by a pair of Iron shackles, laying limply on a pile of hay. He looked up at her, confused by what he saw. Celene sighed. The lock clicked at her attention and the door creaked open, her bare foot met the stone floor of his cell.

"Come to kill me?" He said slowly, his voice deep, slow and ponderous.

"Actually, quite the opposite." She knelt down in front of him, touching his face. He recoiled away, flinching in pain. "I owe somebody a favor for a mistake long ago. You have someone waiting for you." She said calmly with a small smile. The thumping of footsteps echoed down the hall. Celene ignored the guards as they reached the cell. Her hand fell to the man's face again, and in a blue flash, they were gone. The pair hit the ground in front of Katarina with a thump, surprising her. She blinked.

"Father?" Her voice trembled ever so slightly. Beyal, removed his hand from her shoulder as she tossed her weapon aside with a clatter and knelt down to hug her father. The monster watch the pair in silence, the resemblance soft as Katarina likely got most of her mother's genes.

"Kat?" Marcus Du Couteau smiled softly, wrapping his now free hands around her shoulders. Werhan looked at Beyal awkwardly.

"Why?" Katarina looked at Celene.

She frowned. "Because I was wrong, you and I are totally different. I take pity on those I share any likenesses with... It's only fair, I give back to you what I never had." She glanced away and vanished again.

"I have so much to tell you. Everything's changed. Cass, she's..."

"News of her reached me in my cell." Marcus sighed slowly. "Who is he?" He asked, lazily half-pointing to Beyal with his hand. A smile crept onto his lips as his daughter turned a soft shade of rose. Beyal shrank away into his robe like a turtle with a chuckle from his exhausted looking teammates. Hearty but defeated smiles were exchanged between Werhan and Wiles as both of them gave him a slap on the back.

"Somebody... different," Katarina answered finally, her lips hinting at an infatuated smile. Marcus gripped his daughter protectively, his eyes locked on the summoner's.

With a defeated sigh, Beyal steeled himself and said, "I am High Summoner Beyal Jyamison Sohrten of Noxus and the League of Legends." Beyal pushed the hair from his eyes nervously, drawing pain from the ragged split on his forehead.

Marcus lifted his daughters arm from around his shoulder and drew himself to his full height. With a hard expression he approached the summoner. Beyal swallowed, refusing to let the man see he was sweating as he stood his ground.

"I see. And what is your interest in my daughter, Jyamison?" Marcus crossed his arms. Beyal allowed a smile to slip onto his face, his eyes shifting sideways past the wall of Noxian General to the red head, his personality leaking through the professionalism he employed to make himself feel safe. He shouldn't feel safe.

"Dare I say...? Romantic," he said loud enough for everyone to hear, releasing the cat from the bag. Vessaria shot him a dumbfounded expression. Katarina shrank backward, now bright red as snickering left the hoods of Werhan and Wiles.

"I can already tell you're not from the family status I would allow near my daughter, just from how your hold yourself," he spoke forcefully. Beyal refused to back down. A smile crept onto his face.

"But?" He finished for the General.

"But I admire your guts. I know my daughter even after all this time, she wouldn't let just any runt get close to her." Marcus leaned it, eyeing the cut on Beyal's forehead. "Get that cleaned before it gets infected. That will leave a nice scar."

A thump tore their attention apart. Celene jabbed the point of her weapon into Swain's back, causing him to stumble forward onto the ground. She lowered the weapon and looked at the General. Marcus recognized the expression, this man had wronged her. The expression was foul and spiteful but excited for what was about to happen. Swain shuddered uncomfortably at her feet, his face leaking blood from numerous tiny wounds.

"My god... what did you do?" Vessaria put her hand to her lips, kneeling down in front of the man.

"I introduced him to a very old friend."

"He needs to be tried." Vessaria frowned, thinking of how to do so.

"Well if I'm not mistaken, Noxian trails are rather old fashion, held by the superior of the person in question and I believe this affront invalidates Swain position, General Du Couteau?" Celene said, her aura was bleeding away. The shiver storms she sent through the summoners stilling to nothing. she wobbled uneasily, spent. She extended her arm outward, pointing the weapon toward the General. Katarina shunpoed to his side and gripped him protectively. The weapon seethed, the hilt shifting to face him. Celene held the sword outstretched, the blade between her fingers. "Don't accept him into the many." Celene muttered, her gaze shifting to her oily sword.

She looked up. "Does he deserve to die? For what he's done to you, your family and your city?" The Ionian asked. The general blinked and wrapped his fingers around the weapon. It felt vile, like it just shouldn't be. He gritted his teeth and took it, noting that it literately weighed nothing. He turned to Swain.

He stared at the quivering man for a long moment. The sword lowered with a sigh. "No. This is a worse punishment for him." The general discarded the weapon. It hit the ground with a splat, forming a puddle. A single black figure rose from it, taller than her. She looked at it with a ghostly smile on her lips, touching its hand. All at once the figure vanished with a metallic ring, her brooch in her fingers.

"Very well, then," Vessaria said uneasily. "We'll deal with him in a moment. Beyal, keep an eye on Katarina and her father. We will take them back with us to the League once we've finished organizing our next step. Werhan, Wiles, inform the Demacians that they can stand down." The pair nodded. "Celene?"

"Yes."

"I suppose I should thank you. Syndra will eventually need to be returned to us. Perhaps we can animate your old body so you ma-"

"Please don't," Celene interrupted. The Ionian paused. "...I would like Earth to be cremated. Give the ashes to me, please." She sighed, turning to Riven. The exile looked at her blankly. Celene threw herself into the woman in a massive hug.

"A sword mirrors its owner," the Ionian whispered in the woman's ear. Riven sighed and returned the hug, signaling the end of the very stressful night.

"In your case... I'm not so sure," Riven said slowly. Celene decided not to answer, her relief directly fighting her growing sadness over those lost and what she'd done. Celene looked away- Riven wasn't ignorant to the scale of the slaughter that had just occurred, such knowledge could easily end her friendship with the Noxian, and yet, here she was. Celene took it as a good sign, letting a smile creep onto her lips.

"Do you think... she'd be happy?"

"Yes. She just wanted peace. The League was perfect for her. This was perfect," the Exile answered. Celene tightened the hug. "We need to go and let the summoners work; perhaps the Demacians have an inn to offer us," Riven muttered to her. Celene nodded. Shifting her gaze towards the light of the Demacian formation and removing Syndra's extravagant headdress. The two began to walk.

Vessaria shifted her eyes from the pair to Swain; he looked up, beginning to recover from his encounter with Nocturne. Vessaria gave him a disgusted glare.

"Fii."

–

Werhan and Wiles stepped from there spell, marching with large smiles of relief on their face up to the Demacian. "What happened?" Garen asked. His voice lowered. "Is she okay?" Werhan smirked at him.

"She's fine, like nothing happened."

"Same can't be said for the Noxians," Wiles added. Garen sighed, putting his hand on Lux's shoulder. "The League will take it from here."

Garen nodded, turning to the guard and the city standing in ranks behind him. "Stand down." Lux sighed in relief. The formation shifted, soft chatter drifting to meet the commander's ears. They had dodged a bullet, Garen thought to himself. The Might of Demacia scolded himself internally. No they hadn't, this was a disaster. Garen wheeled around, attempting to push Marten's shocked expression out of his head as he removed his hand from Lux's shoulder.

"I'm proud of you. You were very strong tonight," Garen said honestly. He ran his hard eyes over the front line.

"You may return to your homes, citizens, Thank you very much for your service to our glorious state. Demacia, now and forever," Jarvan spoke up, raising his lance to the air. The troops began to turn and disperse. The prince sighed, sneaking Garen a look.

Garen slacked tiredly under his armor was his family approached from the formation. He shot Lux a proud grin, smiling brightly. "You and Garen should stay at the estate tonight; I won't allow my son and daughter to travel after such a scare."

Lux sighed, pulling her hair from her sweet soaked brow. She looked down at herself, her azure silk dress muddied and ruined, her fingertips burned from overuse of her spells. "Alright, dad," she said softly.

"You're aware you probably saved all our lives tonight, Luxanna?" Caitlyn said softly, shooting Lux a smile. Lux looked at her confused.

"You stopped the melters from firing, Lux. You're a hero." Caitlyn grinned. Lux blushed. Garen slapped her heartily on the shoulder, his gauntlet causing her to buckle. "Jarvan, can you do me a favor and oversee the city's return to normal? I would like to tend to my family." Jarvan nodded. Garen gave him a soldier's smile. "Let's go home."

–

Celene pressed her new shoulders into the provided Demacian cot. A sigh escaped into candlelit inn. The silence was poisonous, staggering the frenzy of emotions flitting between the Ionian's ears. Riven rolled onto her shoulder, eyeing her thought-locked friend. Syndra was rolling a golden brooch between her fingers. She bit her lip to pin away a second sigh. "I hate to ask, but what is that?" The soft tone pierced the darkness. Celene's eyes shifted to meet the Exile's, letting her know the question was ill-timed.

The gaze held for a moment. Celene's eyes flicked back to the object in question. "I suppose it's a like phylactery- not for me per se, but it stores people inside it."

"Lee Sin and I actually concluded that, though we didn't know it was so powerful," Riven said softly. Celene's lips curled softly. "Nor why you had it."

"It was never intended as a weapon, but functions very well as such," Celene mused. Fingers met cold metal. "This, Riven, is what you get when science and magic come together and defy the laws of nature," Celene stated, her smile shifting towards the more unnerving end of her spectrum as she unpinned her cloak. The Exile stared at her across the room, a long silence followed as Celene rolled the broach in her fingers.

"How did you break your sword?" Celene asked coolly, turning the golden object in her hand. Her head turned, giving Riven her full attention. A steady silence followed the question. Riven's expression stiffened. She bit her lip, shooting Celene a pleading expression. No mercy rested in the Monster's vivid electric blue glow.

Riven's face contorted in dread. "Hunghh." her voice shook. Celene felt guilt jab her in the chest. "It happened in the Coeur Valley- it was the only practical route to move the melters deeper into Ionia, passed Shon-Xin." Riven swallowed.

"The cleanup effort was running into a lot of resistance. Bodies were everywhere along the route. The high command had warned us of heavy resistance, but all we saw were corpses, though a lot of them wore Noxian uniforms." She went on, her voice slowly cracking. She drew a breath.

"It was foggy, around mid-day the bodies just... got up. The Ionians had been laying amongst their own dead in an attempt to ambush us. I don't know who it was, but someone decided we were going to lose." Riven glared at the ceiling. "The melters opened fire... By chance I was standing in just the right spot to not fall like the rest of them. They taught us that only the strong survive. None of us should have- it was unfair. I watched my men, people whom I went through the academy with, melt like candles in a cooking fire." Riven sniffled, pressing her eyes into the crook of her elbow. A pause followed, silence broken only by suppressed sniffling. Celene frowned.

Riven drew a shaky breath. "I spent the next two days digging graves, including one for myself. When I was finished, I struck my sword against a rock until it broke- something about what it represented disgusted me. It meant I was strong but I wasn't I should be dead. I just laid down in my grave and looked at the sky. I should have been dead, just like everyone else." Riven swallowed again. Celene sighed.

"I woke up under the care of an elderly Ionian couple, tied up. They fed me until I got loose of my binding and left in the middle of the night, taking my broken sword with me." Riven turned to face the wall, putting her back to the Ionian. Celene inhaled softly and vanished, her arms coiling around Riven's shoulders, pulling her into a prone embrace.

"You faced that again tonight. Being afraid doesn't make you weak and helpless," Celene said softly. Riven didn't answer, instead choosing to ignore the Ionian. Their foreheads touched with a sigh from Celene followed by a long still silence. Riven shifted uncomfortably.

"Something wrong?" Celene asked, opening a single blue eye.

"You're... in my personal space," Riven said shyly. A smile split the Ionian's new face- the same smile that she always wore though through different features.

"Too bad." Celene replied. Riven sighed, too tired to bother. Celene's eyes softened, leaning on mischievous. "Besides... What's wrong with me being in your personal space~." Riven swallowed, pressing her back against the wall in an attempt to create a gap between them. Celene spotted the reaction. "Alright," she muttered with an understanding smile, disappearing then appearing on her own cot.

"What about Syndra?" Riven eventually asked. Celene shifted.

"I'm going to talk to her, but not tonight. She's a champion, so it's possible that the summoners can speak to her without me needing to possess anyone." Celene said.

Riven cracked a smile. "Alright." She turned to face the Ionian. "Who's inside it? Your phylactery." Celene frowned over the question.

"A lot of people."

"He is too, isn't he, Earth's father?" Riven asked carefully. Celene gave her a nod. Silence.

"It's so strange. When I think back, the world was so different. It was cleaner, happier... slower. Life didn't have the complexities and logistics it does now." Celene paused. "I like how it is now more. Only when everything is messed up do people go out of there way and try to make it better."

"Like the League," Riven added. Celene shot her a questioning look.

"The League is a gladiatorial arena." Riven shot the Ionian a curt smile.

"The League is the best example of everything you just said." Riven yawned.

"I suppose that's true, isn't it? You just like it because you get to fight, Noxian," Celene teased.

"You just like it because you get to be yourself- did you use your real name? Before you joined?"

"No, I went by Earth, and Faith before that."

Riven nodded. "I see. It's okay." Her eyes drifted shut and within minutes she was asleep. Celene stared at the ceiling until her awareness drifted away into black. Sleep was uncaring and unbiased; no matter how good or bad the day, the abyss was consistent in its texture. The Ionian took comfort in it. Tomorrow was new, a day without people she had known for what now seemed like forever but had been less than a year. She began to fade into the empty black. It was unfair not to mourn.

**Author's Notes: Welp, hopefully that wasn't to super powers from nowhere. It has been foreshadowed FOREVER. Hopefully it wasn't to jarring. Before the revision it was much much more bullshit. (she wrecked that whole army by herself.) I like it a lot more now as she only pwns for about 3 pages before getting locked down. My editor pointed out "Don't you think her Phylactery is a litttlee overpowered?" I had just finished watching this horribly bad but funny movie called Indian Robot Endhiran (Look it up on youtube) at the time and replayed. "It should be fine." Thank all of you for reading 3 your reviews and feedback are great, I feel like a better writer! Last Chapter goes up next week.**


	16. Circular Immortality

**Author's Notes: Well... Finally here. I can't believe it, I really cant. I started working on this last August in 2012. It's now April 27th 2013 for reference. Its mind boggling that I spent so much of my time on this project and now its finished... I hope everyone had as much fun as I did, I love all of you. **

Chapter 16

Circular Immortality

The rain rolled off the woman's straw hat in torrents. She pulled her cloak tightly around her, marching down the trail through the woods. Celene had been here before though her memory was vague. She marched in silence. Her goal was close, a shrine visible at the trail's side, just a small pile of rocks more than anything, but it signaled the presence of life, and more importantly, shelter. Celene had noticed quickly over the last month that Syndra's body was much worse at storing heat then Earth's had been. She was taller, more heavily built. The Ionian had also quickly been reminded how much she hated breasts. They were heavy and bled off heat, and somehow always in the way.

She rounded a corner, peering through the thick Ionian rain. There it was. The village had grown in the last eighty years; several new houses built, the old ones expanded. Some of the white paint was peeling. The bridge was gone, presumably washed away by a flood. The rain had turned the earth to sludge, making everything look dirty and unkempt. It was much cleaner in her memories, carpeted in thick grass. She scanned it. Her eyes paused on a shrine standing where the pyre had been, a small octagonal structure, large enough to kneel inside and pray.

Celene descended the steps built into the trail, being careful not to slip on the river of muddy water that flowed down over her feet. The village was empty, as everyone was taking shelter from the storm. Though it was midafternoon, it looked like night. Her fingers wrapped around the door to the shrine. She respectfully pulled it open. It was empty but for a brass staff with a circular top, each side bearing three hanging brass rings. It lay across the hands of a small statue. The rear of the weapon was misshapen as if it had been melted. Everything was coated in a fine layer of dust.

Celene frowned and stepped all the way inside, closing the door to shut out the storm and any eyes that may be watching. She knelt down, the stone floor biting at her knees coldly as she wrapped her fingers around the staff and lifted it carefully. It was nothing spectacular, but the woman remembered it. It was warded against demons rather than enchanted in any notable way- really more of a fancy walking stick than a weapon. She turned it over, the rings hanging from it jingling joyfully. She looked over her shoulder, out through the mesh-work of the door, and frowned. Replacing the weapon, she got to her feet. She stepped forward through the door and into the past.

The small brass urn that hung from her belt clinked as she stepped down the stairs. She marched, crossing the ground in stride. The village had a community building, a sort of town hall, normally doubling as an inn. Her boots clicked against the wooden steps. A hand escaped from under her cloak, closing around the silver nob. The door opened with an unnervingly familiar creak, biting the floor mid swing just as she remembered. The inn fell silent. What Celene guessed was most of the town's small population sat huddled around small fire pits; whispers filled the air as their conversation died down. A thick silence followed as Celene closed the door behind her and removed her hat. Blue eyes and straight white hair showed themselves, making her look like a ghost.

She blinked, spotting the elderly woman in white robes at the end of the hall. People edged away as the woman took a step, marching between them. White was the color of death, after all- they had reason to be superstitious. The urn on her belt clinked playfully. She stopped, giving the village defender an impassive look as he took a step closer to the elderly woman.

"It's not often that our small village has visitors," the elder said in Ionian. Her voice bit like a rabid dog. She was suspicious. "State your business, traveler." Celene smiled softly, pulling her cloak away to reveal solid white traveling clothes, a thick belt, heavy boots, and an urn hanging by a thin golden chain. She placed her hand behind the metal object, showing it to the woman.

"These are the ashes of a woman that used to live in your village," Celene answered softly in Ionian. "I thought she would like to be with her father."

The old woman sighed, pushing herself out of her chair with an elaborate walking stick. "I was warned about you... you're the monster that stole her away from her family, aren't you? The monster that murdered the defender of our village with your dark magic?" The hall fell utterly silent, not even the weather wanted to say anything.

Celene looked down, smiling almost shyly. "Yes~" She whispered. A man stepped forward aggressively, but the elder held her arm out in his way. He glared and backed up.

"What do you want from us?" The elder spat with unmatched hostility. Celene sighed.

"Is her family still alive?" Celene receded into her cloak. She meant well, she really did. She just hoped Syndra's features displayed it properly.

"Her name was Earth wasn't it..." The woman spoke slowly. "She has a sister with a family and a husband." Celene blinked; no matter how many times this happened, it always bothered her. Time never felt like it moved, often making her forget that people lived their lives and grew old while she did not.

"I will not trouble them..." Celene said quietly. She unhooked the urn from her belt and placed it at the woman's feet. "I'm sorry." Celene turned, removing herself silently from the room. The door shut behind her with a click and breathing resumed. The elder returned to her seat, visibly shaken.

"She looked haunted," the monk next to her spoke slowly. The elder said nothing, just stared hard at the door.

"Are we... cursed?" the woman managed.

He sighed. "I do not believe so," he said under his breath; stepping over the urn, he made his way to the door hurriedly. The monk pulled the door open, peering out into the rain. Celene stood motionless in front of him, looking at the house she had once lived in, the one with the peeling paint. "Why did you do it?" He asked flatly. Celene smiled at him pensively over her shoulder, her fingers tightening around her hat.

"I was in love. Wildly in love." She looked away. "In the back of my mind, I knew I was making a mistake- it would never work. But I didn't care and tried to hide what I was from him and pretended I was just a normal girl, a girl from another village without a family that wandered through and sold herbs." She sighed, sitting on the steps. "When he found out, it just... it just hurt so bad. He attacked me, I got so angry. All reason was gone and... I killed him, he never stood a chance, I moved and he was dead before I'd even realized what I'd done." the monk stared, unsure what to make of what was in front of him. "Why do you care what happened? You're supposed to defend your village from evil spirits." asked, her voice towing a touch of hostility

"I've never heard of any evil spirits coming to mourn for those they've hurt. That's why you're here, isn't it?" He paused. "Would you like to see where he is buried?"

"There was nothing to bury," Celene muttered, feeling her brooch.

"He still has a grave." The monk stepped past her. "It's not far." Celene watched him walk through the rain out of the opposite end of the village. He paused and turned around, waiting for her. She felt a smile, replacing her hat and stepping into the dying rain. She followed him silently for about a quarter mile across the river and up the hill. She lost him for a few minutes, the path becoming remarkably steep and hard to navigate in the pouring rain. She reached the top. A small clearing with several burial mounds stood before her, each nothing more than a pile of dirt lined with small rocks with some item placed on top. The man regarded her quietly as she looked them over. Something silver caught her eye. A ring, placed neatly on the center of one of the mounds- she remembered it. "It's good luck- it seems like good things only ever happen while I'm wearing it," he said in Ionian over her ox-drawn display of different plants and spices. She grinned back at him widely.

Celene knelt down, picking it up and turning it in her fingers. The Ionian had hundreds of objects like this- mementos, just trinkets given a value by those who owned them. She sat frozen, turning it over endlessly in her hands, staring, remembering.

Celene was pulled back to reality by the step of a boot behind her. She looked up, not realizing how long she had been kneeling there. The rain had stopped and the monk had left. The sun shone weakly through the retreating clouds. She got to feet and turned, tucking the ring into her palm. A figure stood at the top of the steps, dressed like her. A straw hat covered the figure's face, shoulders wrapped in a black cloak. She looked up and saw a pair of spectacles barely visible under the hat.

"You can be very tricky to find," the figure spoke- a woman, probably in her early thirties. She removed the hat, tossing it lazily onto the ground. Vayne leered at her from behind her ruby-lensed glasses. Celene sighed, not finding many reasons for Vayne to track her down beyond trying to kill her.

She decided to ask anyways, not in the mood for a fight. "I want to see him again, Vayne..." She said, making her tone as level as she was able. "Just give me an excuse..." A knot formed in her throat as she pinned the brooch between her fingers, glaring at her. Vayne looked behind her, checking that they were alone.

She straightened up, removing her cloak, her normal body sock showing itself, the crossbow on her wrist polished and gleaming silver. Only one thing was different- a thin sword of Ionian make hung from her hip. "Don't look at me like that. Vessaria sent me looking for you."

Celene raised her eyebrows. "Vessaria? You're the last person I would send looking for me." Celene nearly laughed, it sounded silly.

"Her reasoning is probably that if I attacked you, you'd just kill me. It would rid her of an annoyance. She saw how dangerous you are. Did you ever find out how many casualties the Noxians took in those ten short minutes?" Celene shook her head slowly. "Less than half of that army was returned home. Vessaria isn't stupid, nor am I." Vayne drew the weapon. Celene remained still, a spark of heat rising in her chest.

"How did you get that?"

"The League saw fit to grant it to me. It's the reason why I am here." Vayne tossed the weapon lazily between them. "It is binding Swains crow and we cannot seem to figure out how to remove it."

"You followed me to Ionia for help with an enchantment?" Celene raised her eyebrows, smirking.

"The League has your scent; they just needed to wait for you to land."

"I see. Why would you agree to this?"

"Because the demon in this weapon is something that should be purged," Vayne said with a snarl. Celene stepped forward, wrapping her hand around the weapon. It was warm and very light.

"I think I know an old spell that we can use to animate it," Celene muttered, "but we can't do it here." She stole a look over her shoulder at the graves.

"Interesting that you, of all creatures, would have respect for the dead," Vayne spat, putting her hands on her hips.

"More so then you might think, girl from the cupboard," Celene said calmly. Vayne narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. Celene ignored her, turning the weapon over in her hand. "I would like to show you something," she said quietly. The monster knelt down, pushing her finger into the mud. She began to trace runes in the earth. Vayne watched. The reading she had done was helping. This was very old magic. Forgotten long sense as people learned to channel without an outside medium. The Ionian finished with circle, several more rings sitting outside of it at odd angles, connected to the center by lines. Celene smiled calmly at her and extended her hand. The Nighthunter swallowed, stepping forward into the ring.

"What does this do?" She asked slowly.

"Nothing painful- it's a gate that goes to a place with the same markings," Celene said with a small smirk. She exhaled, spreading her feet and extending her arms out at her sides. The ring buzzed for a moment. Vayne felt her stomach turn over. Snow slammed into her face, ripping her cloak from her shoulders. The pair stood in the middle of a blizzard on a stone tablet. A mirror image of the ring burned blue, melting the snow. Vayne shielded her face. Celene's hand wrapped around hers, guiding her briefly forward. A small stone arch came over her head, the blizzard raging outside. Vayne wiped her eyes, the tether with Vessaria she had been holding snapping as she stepped inside. The hairs on her neck stood on end- she sensed something about this place was wrong. She felt cold. The flow of mana around her had stopped the second she stepped through the arch.

"Where are we?!" She snarled.

"Relax. This is the safest place on Runeterra- for me, at least." Celene walked forward, her eyes illuminating the cave beyond bright blue. Vayne begrudgingly followed- the woman was her only ticket home, and her only option was to play along. She walked in silence. A content look spread on Celene's face. Her boots echoed endlessly off the stone as the pair descended into the earth. Celene stopped. A wall stood in front of her. She rolled the ring in her fingers, adjusting her grip on the sword with the other. Vayne stopped next to her. The wall was smooth stone, its surface broken by a single thin crack. Celene handed the weapon to her, unpinning her cloak. The garment dropped to the floor.

Vayne placed her hand on the stone, it was warm. The Ionian smiled at her and held her brooch at arm's length up to the crack. The brooch snarled quietly. Vayne took a step away from it as it split in the Ionian's fingers. Black oil seeped down her hand, moving as though it were alive. Celene looked at her reassuringly. "What the fuck is that..." The Nighthunter muttered, adjusting her glasses. It stood an inch on the Ionian's fingertip, pulsing. It emitted a small hiss, sniffing the air before thrusting in itself into the crack.

"Its what's left of my kingdom- you'll understand in a minute," Celene answered. The mass stuck to the stone, pushing itself deeper. Vayne could hear its snarling. It left Celene's finger, disappearing into the crack. A hollow click echoed through the cave. And after a moment's pause, the wall split down the middle, the halves rolling to the side. A stairway loomed, coated in glistening black liquid. Old air poured out. Celene inhaled deeply "I would advise that you stay close," she said with a hint of tease and stepped down, descending into the darkness. The runes around the woman shone dull blue, dimming and going dark as she passed them. The oil slithered away from her like cockroaches fleeing light. Vayne hurried after her, keeping inside the glow as the oil flowed back into place behind her. She drummed her fingers uneasily on her crossbow. Ever sense in her body screamed that she was being watched from the darkness from all directions.

"I used to be a king, you see," Celene spoke from ahead of her. "I ruled over a kingdom in the frozen north maybe the size of Demacia. I was loved." Celene paused. "The people believed I was a god. They had discovered my ability and crowned me, worshipped for my eternal life. Like anybody with a heart would, I tried to be good. I had men laboring and toiling for hours, attempting to break nature's laws and grant immortality, the ultimate gift to give to my people." Celene reached the bottom.

A vast expanse of blackness stood before them, a massive cavern. Vayne's boots clicked softly as she stepped off the stair, a quick look down revealing the floor to be cracked marble. A snarling echoed through the cavern. The sound was unearthly, inhuman, alien- like nothing Vayne had ever heard. "Well, eventually, we found it." Celene turned towards the sound, her eyes casting light on a black puddle that drifted along the floor. Vayne's crossbow snapped level with the tar puddle. It rolled across the floor towards her. "They won't do anything. You can put that away."

"They?!" Vayne asked. Her voice shook, earning her a look from Celene. The Ionian looked completely relaxed, as if she were sitting in an armchair in front of a warm hearth.

"They. This..." Celene motioned as the black puddle stopped in front of them. Its surface shifted violently, as if trapping something inside it. "This is my kingdom and its people; my weapon and probably my biggest mistake." It snarled, a hand arose from it, clawing at the air before slamming into the marble with a wet splat. Vayne's arm shot up, a bolt flying from her crossbow into the puddle. It punched through, bouncing off the marble with a shower of sparks and tumbling off into the darkness. Another hand rose, nails biting into the marble. With a screech shoulders and a head appeared. A featureless face cocked back as if gasping for air. Celene watched as if it were a child taking its first steps.

"You said they..." Vayne said, her arm shacking as she manually reloaded her weapon, its mechanical feeding system useless without the mana in the air. She took an uneasy step backwards. "How many?!" she shouted, her voice wavering.

"I don't know, it started at just a few. They gave themselves up to it, it was the gateway to paradise to them, so they could be like me. It absorbs anyone it kills. I've lost track of how many people it's taken. Thousands easily, maybe millions," Celene mused as she stepped forward, outstretching her hand towards the figure. It paused, slamming its palm into hers with a splat. She pulled it up, its foot remaining in the pulsing puddle on the floor.

"How long ago did this happen?" Vayne forced her voice steady, snapping her weapon from Celene to the oily being. Celene didn't seem to hear her. She rolled the ring between her fingers. The featureless being towered over her, nearly eight feet tall. It looked down towards her and raised its hand to her face. The touch lingered affectionately, and with almost loving care, it removed her straw hat. The Ionian smiled brightly at it stepped forward. It lifted its arms slowly and rested them atop her thin shoulders. She returned with a hug, her ear against its chest.

"How are you today Kaiyo?"She said. Her eyes flicked to Vayne uneasily and turned under its watch. The being held its hands around her shoulders, hugging her into its chest as if protecting her from Vayne. It looked up blackly at the Nighthunter, tensing ever so slightly. Its feet shifted apart. Vayne peered in at it, keeping her distance and lowering her weapon. Celene let out a content sigh as it rubbed the side of her cheek with its oily fingers. The Ionian tiled her head back, peering up at it with a grin before taking its wrist and sliding the silver ring onto its left ring finger. It looked at its hand and tightly embraced her. Its black arms coiled around the woman's shoulders, in front of her chest, its eyeless gaze never leaving Vayne. Celene's ghostly smile softened as it slid its hands to rest possessively on her shoulders, and then with a metallic ring, it vanished. Celene's brooch landed neatly in her palm and she looked up. Vayne had never seen anything more unnerving in her entire life. Her skin prickled under a thin lining of ice cold sweat.

Celene sighed, rubbing her collar bone where the hands had been and snapped her fingers. Runes expanded outward from the floor where she stood, snaking their way over every inch of the cavern and illuminating it in dull gray light. It was huge- the entire Institute could fit inside it. The wall behind Vayne was lined with full- sized shelves, filled with thick leather-bound books, the other wall all but bare except for a chest and hundreds of what looked to be hand painted portraits. The very far end of the cavern caught the Nighthunter's eye. A black chair sat on top raised few steps, its metal back snaking and looping in decorative tendril-like extensions that marched with the wall behind it. A massive mural displayed itself, covering the whole wall extending nearly sixty feet upward. A man in robes of satin sat a chair on the top, holding a black orb and a rod. People worshiped him, but below that was poverty, people dying; below that, scientists, working on tables with runes covering them, black tendrils creeping up their legs. Vayne followed them downward. The rest below was black, showing the man again, with a blue ring covering his eyes and his arms outstretched. People held both his hands in a large arc across the wall. Vayne continued downwards, writing she couldn't read covering the black mass, glowing, then below it, the throne. Celene sighed at it. Vayne just stared, having no idea what to say. The Ionian walked towards it, motioning her to follow.

The cavern was silent. Only their footsteps echoed across. Vayne decided she didn't like it and opened her mouth to speak. "Did you... believe you were helping them?"

"At the time, yes, I did~. They seemed so inspired. The worship had gotten to me; I thought they would be as happy as I was. They thought I was sending them to paradise," Celene said, her lips hinting ever so slightly at a smile. "I later decided it was disgusting and tried to destroy it. Nothing worked. Magic, chemistry, brute force, even disassembly never worked. I gave up and sailed out to sea, tossing it overboard. A few years later, it found its way back to me. I woke up one night with it laying on my chest." She grinned. "Now I just live with it."

Vayne raised an eyebrow. "You admire it..."

"Correct. It's like me, but without all of my bad traits. It's loyal, forgiving, loving and protective. It's... perfect, in my eyes, at least." Celene placed her foot on the steps, working her way up to the throne. Vayne blinked, failing to understand. She gave up, deciding she didn't want to understand Celene's thinking. "I find there is a pattern in my life. I am compassionate, helping people and after so many years I get jaded. It always somehow ends up getting used, be it out of anger or inspiration, then I feel awful and repeat." Celene placed herself in the chair, crossing her legs. "So, if you want to remove this demon, I'll help you. I think I owe you and everybody in the League a lot for teaching me so much." She would have to return, the call and the people were just too much for her to stay away.

"We didn't do anything for you- you just stayed and changed on your own," Vayne pointed out. Celene giggled to herself.

"But you gave me something without realizing it. And when you have all the time in the world, nothing is free. Everything goes away." Vayne put her hands on her hips, deciding not to argue and giving up. She drew the sword. Celene unpinned the broach. "Put it on the floor." Vayne nodded, setting the weapon down with a dull clink. Celene leaned forward. Vayne felt her skin bristle as the Ionian stared at the weapon. It began to hum, shaking against the floor with a clatter. Runes wrote themselves out on the floor around it, a vast complex network of blue writing and lines. With a hiss, a black mist rose from the sword, coiling in the air above it. Wind washed through the cavern and over the two women with a deep sigh, like a rolling ocean wave.

The black mist formed a vague humanoid shape, a pair of tiny red eyes opening on its face. "Interestinng," it said. Its voice had an odd ring, reminding Vayne of Shaco for a brief moment. Its voice echoed, both male and female.

"And yourself," Celene complimented, leaning against the back of her throne and uncrossing her legs. "What is your name."

"I don't have a… nnname."

"Very well, where are you from?" Celene asked.

"I am from the border… a soul who got lost on his way to eternnal rest lonng ago." _A__geist,_ Vayne thought- she had read about this, ghosts that resided inside the bodies of animals and sometimes people.

"I see. May I ask... what was your relationship with Jericho Swain?" Celene gave the geist a smile. "You inhabited a crow, following him around and taking commands. I was wondering, what was your deal?"

"Ahhh, an ambitious man he, too weak for his culture and dreams but willing to do... annnything. I would scour the landss with other crows, searching for food. Battlefields are feasts, you see, all that meat, just… lyinng there, you see. Swain was wounded, his leg destroyed by means I did not observe. He wailed and screamed into the afternoon, crawling at the ground among his dead brethren. So I thought "Hey, he could use... a bit of help," and landed in front of him. We talked."

"What did he want?" Celene asked again, listening intently.

"To live. His ennemy loomed, checking corpses. So I offered him a bargain- I keep him alive and fuel his dreams, then when he dies, he stays in this world in my place." Celene nodded.

"I have a proposal for you," the Ionian said coolly. Her eyes flicked to Vayne.

"I'm listening, Celene." Vayne blinked. _It knows her by name__. I guess she has a reputation._

"You stay in that weapon, and in exchange, take anybody unlucky enough to be struck down by its edge. You will be a reckoner of souls." He laughed under his breath.

"How could I say no..." He cackled lowly and with that, he sank into the weapon. The runes began to dim and eventually vanished. Celene reached out, tendrils snaking outward, coiled around the sword. She blinked. Gripping it she stood up. The Ionian looked at the thin curved weapon, drawing her arms out and pointing the blade inward. Vayne's eyes widened. She inhaled and stopped, the blade quivering in front of her stomach. She narrowed her eyes and sighed. No anger, no self-loathing showed itself to push the weapon forward. The corners of her mouth shifted upward.

"No." She brought the weapon to her knee and snapped it. Its thin blade clattered across the marble floor. The Ionian felt it go cold. With a single short laugh, she tossed the hilt at Vayne. "Go home. The runes outside will take you back to Ionia." Vayne blinked. Celene waved her hand for her to leave, sinking into the throne again. She just wanted to be alone.

"Vessaria gave me a question to relay to you," Vayne said. Celene looked at her, not answering. "Will you return to the League?"

"Yes~." She paused. "Have you met Thresh yet?" Celene asked, raising her eyebrows. Vayne scowled. "He's a sweetheart. You'll like him."

"He's worse then you, freak," Vayne spat. Celene felt her lips curl upward. Syndra's thin jaw line was well suited to the motion.

"Still want to kill me? Why? Because I'm not human? There are a lot of inhuman beings in the League; some more noble then you. Because I'm not Demacian? I live forever, but that doesn't mean I can be everything." Vayne's fingertips drummed uneasily on her crossbow, spotting the challenge. Celene was daring her to move, to fight in her domain. The Ionian fiddled with her brooch;, a clear threat.

Vayne decided a verbal retaliation was best. "Because you're a monster!" She shouted. It reverberated throughout the chamber. "A creature that that feeds on the living, an abomination!"

Celene snorted. "Oh please. There are much more dangerous things in this world then me." Her eyes narrowed. "Old enemies and monsters that deserve your time much more then little old me. The Watchers of the North, the Void, the denizens of the Shadow Isles, the Black Rose, just to name a few."

"It sounds to me like you're pleading," Vayne said curtly

Celene felt her smile shrink from a grin into one of her most dangerous leers. "Then destroy my body, Nighthunter, just like so many before you have~." Excitement began to leak into her tone.

"Put me in chains, seal me away, bind me to a stone or a weapon." She was on her feet, advancing on Vayne. Her chest began to burn. Vayne took a step backward.

"Rid the next five hundred or so years of my presence, give me a brief pause." Celene leered. Vayne stood motionless, arms at her sides. She shot Celene an electrified scowl. A sigh cut the silence. Celene's expression shifted from sadistic to solemn.

"Please leave," Celene said flatly. "Consider this my attempt at justice. I will give you any information you require if it helps the greater good, but not now. Right now you have a choice, leave or you can be forever like them." Celene flicked her glimmering eyes to the brooch in her hand. "All you need to do is stay, monster hunter." The two stared at each other for more than a minute. Vayne's breathing was tense. She was ready to fight at a second's notice, to dive out of the way of some unearthly attack. Celene felt no change. Should she need to fight, Vayne stood little chance. Finally, Vayne turned, marching from the room.

"Thank you," she said from the bottom of the stairs. Celene silently watched her go, her fingers rolling her brooch. The Nighthunter began to ascend the steps. After a few minutes, the grinding of the stones sliding back into place signaled her departure.

The room was utterly silent, nothing moved. Celene held her breath, producing no noise. _P__eace._ Her eyes slid to the line of paintings on the stone wall to her left, hundreds and hundreds of portraits she'd painted. Paint outlasted memories, but even it faded in time, just like everything else. She reached the end. _I need t__o paint Riven,_ she thought, exhaling. Opening her palm, she stared blankly at the brooch in her hand. Heavy eyes reflected in the dull yellow metal. She remembered when it was first given to her. It seemed such a simple trinket for a god, or so she had thought at the time.

She relaxed, drawing her knees to her chest and allowing the warm air to smother her. Sleep teased her; something about the still air made her want to give in, silent all but for her own breathing. Closing her eyes, Celene removed the room from her vision, listening to the only sound. The memories flowed forth with ease as her mind became fuzzy. The brooch escaped her fingertips onto the stone floor with a clink as Celene's form went limp.

The pebbles of the path scraped under her boots. The forest smelled softly of rain in the late afternoon, punctuated by the woven basket full of herbs hanging from the crook of her elbow. She was nearly home. _If __I hurry he might still be there,_ she thought to herself, a smile creeping onto her face at his mention. She felt like a child and loved it. Just his presence made her cheeks rosy. It was so strange, given what she was, but she didn't care. Her nature was irrelevant. She would tell him tonight, she decided. Blood crept into her face, lagging behind the excited smile but a second.

Rounding the final bend, the village sank into view. She could see her house, a small two room building with white paint. The woman mused as she strolled into the dying sunlight, remembering when it had been built but a year ago. Nothing sat out of place. The elder stood on the bridge she was about to cross, staring into the river. A few people wandered about, most either leaving or entering the town hall. Her boots met the wood with a thunk as she passed the elder, saying nothing to remove him from his trance. She marched in silence for a moment.

Someone was leaning against her door, blocking her entry- a thin man in the robes of a monk, with brown hair and bright happy eyes. His staff sat inside the crook of his elbow much the same way her basket sat in hers. Her face lit up in a blush, joy mixed the expression like spice. His eyes shifted mischievously in the direction of the bridge.

"Notes? Really?" Kaiyo teased, his fingers drumming against her door frame. A girl's name. Faith remembered making fun of him for it during their first meeting. "I thought that was something children did." he said with a smirk. Faith stood, unable to answer; her expression shifting ponderously, forcing away the knowledge that she was making a mistake. She didn't care, something about him made her so happy. It was addictive, dangerously so.

"If you didn't feel anything similar, you wouldn't be here right now," she pointed out, shifting her weight to one foot. His smile broadened, eyes flicking to the silver ring on his finger. She returned the smile brightly, advancing on him. A twinge of dread pulled at her attention. Pull as it might, she ignored it- not for lack of noticing, she simply didn't care. "I have a dinner planned," she said shyly. His eyebrows rose on his forehead at the mention of food, something she had bribed him with before. "We'll talk everything over inside, away from prying ears." She snuck her hand past him. He moved, allowing her to open the door.

–

The two had eaten animatedly for the last hour. It was dark as the moon had contested the sky, but neither cared. They sat over empty plates, talking. The solitude had removed the nerves and butterflies that normally plagued the girl in his presence. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but assumed it was just chemistry. He was attractive from the moment she had seen him, but it was far beyond that after nearly a year of exposure. She must look like a giggling teenager, but she didn't care. His composure was more solid then hers; he lacked the loopy smiles and stares she gave off like sunlight, hiding her better judgment telling her to escape. _Is it better? He makes me so happy, happier __than__ I ever remember being._ Her expression faltered.

_You know you __can't__ go into this a liar. He doesn't know what you __are;__ he doesn't even know your real name. __You need to tell him..._ A voice nagged in the back of her head.

"Are you alright?" Kaiyo asked, his eyes leaking worry into his dreamy expression. Faith nodded slowly. "I..." She paused. Kaiyo's head tilted to the side questioningly. Her eyes shifted away from him, a knot forming in her throat. "I need to tell you something..." She managed. Faith's sky blue eyes pinned themselves to her door, anything but him. He moved in the corner of her vision, leaning over the single person table. "Kaiyo I..." The statement was lost, her heart stopping as a barrage of shivers shot up her spine, causing her fingers to curl. Her eyes slid back to his as her cheeks filled with roses, her stomach turning over. With the broken kiss, her expression shifted from wide eyed to half lidded, the shivers converting to warmth, heart in her chest like fire. Everything was gone, everything but him. It was irresistible, unfair, overwhelming. She wanted more, _needed_ more. Her lips formed the words without instruction as she began to advance on him over the tabletop, finishing her sentience for her and breaking all her rules. "Love you."

–

Her feet hit the ground as her body crumpled- her new body. Gasps rose from all around her as the tell-tale convulsions stilled. Her mind was a storm, a blizzard so thick she couldn't see straight. Guilt, anger, remorse, fear, all flying across her vision like flecks of snow. No matter how many times it happened, it always shocked her. Celene was trapped in herself with no control, no way out. Only the realization that she would take another should the first fall. She had no choice but to move forward, forward until the end of everything. There was a silence that only the crackling of the pyre broke. Her new eyes shifted upward, spotting feet stepping away from her. The white robes of the elder met her climbing gaze. He stood, shocked, leaning on his staff for support. Her vision shifted to the burning structure in front of her, a sound making itself known over the shocked silence and roar of the fire.

A soft clink, metal against wood, then the dull pat of it meeting the dirt. The brooch gleamed in the sunlight, the circular list of mistakes that had grown but hours before. Earth didn't deserve to suffer more then she already had, the poor girl. The scrape of a weapon being drawn caught her attention, sparking her new body's fight or flight instincts. It was disgusting, everything screamed for her to move, all her new body's instincts wishing to preserve themselves. And she did, more for Earth's sake than her own. The girl pushed herself to her feet and took off in a run towards the pyre. Shouts followed that she didn't process as her feet skidded. Her thin fingers fumbled around the metal object, cool in her hand like always despite having just been burned.

"MONSTER!" The voice came, the swish of a sword being swung. Her eyes shifted up to meet those of the elder, bringing gleaming death down on Earth. No more would be added to her list, no more to the one of many in her hand. She focused briefly; the swishing sound was abruptly cut short as her feet hit the wood of the bridge with a thunk. She looked back, watching the elder stumble as the curved blade passed through where she had just been. A villager pointed to her and shouted- she couldn't recall his name past the blizzard and took off away from them in a run.

She ignored the trail, making a darting straight line into the woods. Celene ran, ran until her new body screamed for her to stop. The shouting that had cut through her panicked breathing had long sense stopped, she continued on. He foot met the ground one final time before her knee gave way. She collapsed into the dirt, skidding painfully to a stop. Her limbs wouldn't move, throbbing in painful protest from overuse. No sound besides her hyperventilation. The forest watched her without care, whispering with wind in branches. She felt hot as the blizzard in her head slowed to sprinklings of guilt. She refused to move as tears flooded her eyes and leaked into the dust, staining it black. She laid face down, a mess of black hair, normally kept so neat, marking where she was. The sniffled finally, inhaling dust and shifted. Clear thought returned as the last of the hysteria leaked from her eyes onto the ground. She felt the brooch in her hand as she pushed herself onto her feet. _N__ow you can be together forever,_ a voice teased. Celene's stomach turned over as she dropped the brooch; stumbling a step onto her hands and knees, she vomited. Her fingernails bit into the dirt. Anger ignited in her heart, aimed at herself. Her arms shook under her weight.

She straightened up, using all of her willpower to do so. She forceful pushed the now-ratty hair out of her face, anger flashing across her vision. Thin fingers lifted the metal curse from the dusty Earth. The metal object split in her fingers and dissolved, black oil forming a vague edge. She stared at it, turning the blade to face her. Her face twisted with a sharp inhale as she slammed the thin weapon into her stomach. The blade vanished, flattening against her body and retracting into her hands. She willed it to reform. It obeyed. She tried again with a shriek. Again, it flattened. She blinked non-comprehendingly and slammed the weapon into herself again, sinking to her knees. She tried a fourth time with a frustrated scream, tears leaking from her eyes again.

"Let me out!" She screamed painfully into the silence, slamming the weapon into herself a fifth time

"Let me be with him!" She shrieked, cocking her arms for another attempt.

"I'M SORRY!" She slammed the weapon into her stomach a seventh time with one final defeated wail. Celene turned it in her hand and stared angrily, an oily black knife nine inches long. Her hair stuck to her face in her tears. She snarled and trapped her tangled, messy hair on her fingers, pulling it tauht before she hastily brought the knife against the mass trapped in her hand, releasing her feelings with the weight and heat the hair at provided as it left her fingers and drifted to the ground with a final agonized scream before her voice cracked and she was still. She sat on her knees in silence for a moment, holding her breath. The forest dare not say a word to disrupt her thoughtless delve into the non-sensory. The trees made no noise. _No __n__oise._

Celene's eyes drifted open, adjusting to the dull gray light of her haven. Her nose inhaled the scent of dust and old books. She shifted forward, recovering from her unexpected nap. Syndra's fingers closed around the brooch between her feet and pulled it onto her lap. _Together, __f__o__rever,_ she thought, realizing that had they been together, he would have since died from old age and be gone. Celene bit her lip at the thought, deciding not to ponder the life they could have had. She turned the metal object over in her hand, examining the pin that held it to clothing._In a sick way, maybe it__'__s better like this,_ she reasoned, the dream provoking blue strands retracting back into her neckline.

"I could never bring myself to... use you for your intended purpose. There are some lines even I shouldn't cross," Celene mused. Despite how practical it would be to have her _own_ body, in a way it would still be a shared vessel. Everybody that made up the small object was still there. It was a failed experiment of a different age, proof that she was immortal but not static. The brooch was turned again in her fingers. Her life was so... circular, like the object in her hand. No matter where she started, Celene would always end up in the same place with the same mentality, given enough time.

"Do you remember who I am?" She asked.

Silence.

"Are you angry?"

Silence. A ghostly, affectionate smile teased her lips.

"I miss you." She mused.

Silence. Celene sighed.

"Do you love me?" She asked slowly.

Silence.

…

…

…

The silence echoed back, "Yes." A smile lathered itself across the Ionian's face. Though it was not unheard of the circular object to speak, it was very rare and short lived. Celene eyed to the tiny droplet of black oil on its golden surface. She has always been impulsive, she noted as she brought the brooch to her lips.

A sigh escaped her lips. Like it or not, she was holding the answer to a long-pondered dilemma. "Now we see if this was some outdated attempt to overthrow my rule or a key to another respite," she muttered as the brooch dissolved in her hand. The oily figure stood before her, arms slack at its sides, neck crooked. Celene let the smile holding her expression hostage soften as her hands coiled around its fluid shoulders. "Syndra, the door is open, so you may leave," she muttered, pressing her lips against the featureless face and releasing the heat in her chest with a long sigh.

What came after was an assault of whispers, leaking over between the two bodies. Excited and loving voices, recounting memories, though not independently, the chatter slowly became unified, one phrase being said, then repeated in unison as other voices began to copy. "We will serve as long as you live, we will assume the form of the most respected, as was intended," it repeated. The last of Celene left her old body behind. Her mind left in a blur as to what was occurring. A spike of guilt over breaking the rule she had enforced for so long.

"It's okay; you are not trapping us here. You are noble," a male voice spoke softly, alone. Awareness left her as the oily figure toppled backward onto the stone floor and lay still.

"Thank you for your help!" Vessaria called into the small town hall in Ionia before closing the door behind her. With a sigh, she stole a glance at her escort. To her left, the Might of Demacia, the Lady of Luminosity and the Exile, all three of which has insisted; to her right, Vayne, whom had functioned as her eyes and ears just hours earlier. The sun sat lazily at the sky's edge as if on a bench, bathing the five in vivid yellow light as Vayne descended the steps.

"It's this way." she said flatly, hoping the final step and meeting the dirt. Riven gave her lip a particularly hard bite, causing herself to wince. It was raw from constant nervous chewing since they had arrived in Ionia by teleport less than two hours ago. They set off, silently following the Nighthunter's aggravatingly quick pace. Vessaria, being the shortest of the group and weighed down with summoner's ropes, struggled to keep up as Vayne practically marched up the rough terrain, allowing an untendered path on a steep incline. All at once the Nighthunter stopped; Garen stumbled to avoid walking over her before freezing as well.

"Well that's interesting," Lux muttered, stepping ahead of the group into the small graveyard. A circular patch of fluffy white snow sat in its center, blue lines melted through its surface, displaying a complex runic pattern across the dirt. Flecks of white snow fell from thin air roughly ten feet up, collecting with their brethren on the ground in a disorganized orb.

"Luxanna, be careful," Garen called before marching after her. Riven shot Vessaria a confused look, not the most educated in the ways of magic, the Exile had no idea what she was looking at. The summoner simply stared, fascinated at the strange occurrence, ignoring the Noxian. Lux unclipped the baton from her hip, giving it a spin over her knuckles out of habit before catching it by its end and sticking it into the falling snow. A smile split her lips.

"So it's through here?" Lux asked Vayne, who nodded.

"Through?" Garen and Riven repeated back, perfectly matching each other's raised eyebrows and confused tone.

"Yep, it looks like a doorway," Lux smiled over her shoulder, pushing her arm into ring. She shivered and smiled. "Heh, cool." Vessaria marched up to her, leaned in, her hand on her chin.

"I've never seen this type of magic before," she said excitedly, kneeling down to examine the runes at Lux's feet.

"Can you wizards stop gawking at the door and just step through it, please?" Vayne said, her hands on her hips. Lux shot her a glare.

"How do I..." Garen began.

"Just stand in it, I would assume," Lux answered, ducking his arm and stepping into the circle. "Hmm.." She emitted, her eyebrows raising slightly before she vanished from sight. Garen shrugged and stepped in after her, followed by Vayne, then Vessaria, and finally Riven.

The Exile gasped at the jarring change in temperature, tightening her arms around herself and nearly dropping her sword. Vayne noted that the blizzard had died since she has left, instead allowing snow to simply sprinkle to the ground at her feet. She eyed the cave in front of her carefully before motioning for the party to follow. Riven happily obliged. Everyone but Lux seemed bothered by the cold. The Demacian girl seemed content to warm herself with the orb of light in her hand, but she obeyed, following Vayne without question. Vessaria and Lux both gasped, the ball of light fluttered with a whimper and vanished.

"What's wrong?" Garen asked as both mages shivered uncomfortably.

"There's no mana in here," Vessaria muttered. Riven and Garen looked at each other. Both had never been able to use magic, and Vayne was likely in the same boat, though neither was sure. Riven shifted her eyes toward the blackness ahead of them.

"What did you say this place was again, Vayne?" She asked, raising her sword over her head, the green glimmer of the runes acting as their only source of light. She began to walk, leading the way. Garen rested his hand on his sword, popping it from its sheath with his thumb before following suit, ready to draw and defend himself and his party at a second's notice.

"It's her sanctuary. With any luck, the door will still be open," Vayne muttered, marching next to Riven. She seemed unnaturally comfortable, likely because she had been here before. The mage and the summoner, on the other hand, practically cowered behind their large warrior buffer.

"Door?" Riven shot a questioning look behind her.

"Yes- there is a stone tablet that covers a staircase that leads to the main chamber. It should be coming up any moment." Riven halted, a void standing before her, the green glimmer failing to pierce the darkness though the first of many stairs was visible.

"It's open," Riven said blankly.

"Strange. It closed behind me when I left. Why would it be open again now?" Vayne rubbed the back of her neck.

"Maybe she left?" Garen spoke up.

"No, I would have felt her again as soon as she got in range. It's likely we're somewhere far north of Valoran right now. Besides, she would have closed it behind her," Vessaria pointed out. Lux nodded in agreement.

Riven held her sword into the opening, the stairs disappeared out of sight. She steeled herself mentally and began to descend. The stone was old and flaky under her traveling boots. "Be careful," she muttered behind her.

The party carefully descended in silence. Riven's stomach lurched, her foot hitting a solid floor were a stair should have been, according to her brain. She stepped into the black chamber, waving her sword over the floor. It was marble. "Hmmm, now we just find her," Riven muttered.

"You guys realize this is probably very stupid, right? This whole thing?" Lux spoke up from the rear of the party. Riven said nothing as Vayne marched ahead of her.

"I don't suppose this is how they feel all the time, Lux? Just... cold?" Vessaria said. Lux gave her a look, her grip tightening around her now useless baton. Garen's hand landed on Riven's shoulder, a gauntleted finger pointed past her vision. A discoloration, barely visible in the blackness, something lying on the floor. Vayne narrowed her eyes. Riven drew the sword to a guard position, her heart speeding up as she practically tip toed toward the object.

It was splayed across the floor, fleshy in color. She paused, releasing it was a person, or a body. Vayne strained her eyes into the dark as she had done many times before. "It could be Syndra," she muttered. Her eyes flicked back to the party with the silent order. If it was Syndra, where was Celene? Weapons were drawn. Riven carefully advanced. The green light touched the form. It was a pale white; nearly four feet of deep oil black hair covered the floor around its naked form. Riven reached it, circling carefully to see its face.

She gasped audibly, her stance faulting in surprise. "What is it?" Lux spoke up, examining Riven's expression of non-understanding. She gave the body a through examining with her eyes. Whoever it was was remarkable small, lacking in muscle mass or fat. She reached Riven's side, spotting the face. Her eyebrows touched her hairline and she instantly knelt down to its side. "It's Earth..." Lux muttered.

"What the fuck?" Came the response from the party, everyone sheathing their weapons and marching up to the prone form. Riven knelt down, setting her sword on the ground with a soft clink. She reached out, giving the girl's shoulder a soft prod with her ring finger.

"Mm mph." The sound came as Earth's eyes squeezed shut more tightly, her curl intensifying as if asleep. Riven shot Vayne a look before giving her a vigorous shake.

With a gasp, vivid blue eyes shot open. Blue- it was Celene. She blinked, her eyes struggling to focus on Riven's she shivered, peering up at the people standing over her as if it were very bright. Rolling onto her back and sitting up, she noted the difference in proportion to who she had been before possessing her phylactery.

"Well, I guess this place isn't secret anymore," she muttered, her voice hoarse. Garen whirled around out of respect for her decency, electing a confused tilt of the head.

"What did you do? Where's Syndra?" Riven asked softly, keeping her eyes firmly on Celene's face with surprising effort.

"Perhaps we should find her some... clothing first?" Lux poked Riven with her boot. Celene blinked before shifting her eyes downward. She bit her lip and turned bright red.

"I would assume Syndra just left," Vessaria muttered, rummaging around in the darkness ahead of the group. Her hand met something fabric on the arm of the chair she had been inspecting. The cloak was tossed at Celene, who scrambled for it and rapidly coiled the cloth around herself. She shakily got to her feet, pinning the fabric as if it were a towel.

"Probably," Celene said, suppressing a cough. The room light up in dull grey light, eliciting a gasp from Lux at its scale.

"Where's your brooch?" Riven asked. Celene shot her a coy smile.

"Right in front of you- I finally gave in." Her tone sagged.

"You possessed it?" Vayne spoke up, her arms crossed at her chest.

"Yes." Celene shot her a blank look. "Why I look like this is beyond my understanding." She motioned to herself, stopping to catch the cloak as it tried to escape. "Are you here to whisk me away to the League, Vessaria?"

"No I was coming to recover Syndra and attempt to work out some kind of arrangement with you so you had... a place to be, but that problem seems to have solved itself."

"But you don't know where Syndra is," Celene pointed out snarkily. Vessaria sighed.

"Yes, but finding her shouldn't be hard."

"I hate to be impatient, but can we go home?" Celene asked. Vessaria nodded. Celene shot Riven a practically dreamy smile and began to march for the exit.

"You will need to repeat your reflections due to your... changed state," Vessaria said calmly as they reached the stairs. Celene tilted her head, feeling her neck pop.

"Whatever."

–

The heavy oak door gave a long groan, a familiar groan of protest as it closed behind her. She was marching for the stairs, her cloak billowing behind her, an electric smile across her face as she passed between the pillars on either side of her. She turned, pushing the smaller door ajar to her left. It opened to reveal a thin hallway with a door at the opposite end, upon which was fastened a golden plaque.

"The Truest Enemy Lies Within," Celene muttered aloud before throwing a glance behind her and pushing it ajar. running her fingers though the hair that was now trimmed to her expectation, though slightly darker in color.

–

Elder Summoner Parrish shot Vessaria a mischievous look as the reflection began. "The League's newest addition seems to be causing quite a stir, wouldn't you agree?" A thin-faced nod was her only reply.

"Heh."

**Author's Notes: Well with Celene wrapped up and developed (as much as you can develop an immortal, game breaking character anyways) I guess that's about it. R&R as always please. Dispute it being done I'll go out of my way to fix any errors or derp ups in my writing. I plan on writing more in the future (maybe including our body snatching friend, who knows.) I have a POV of Thresh fic floating around in my head and something for Magic, The Gathering which is closer to execution. If anyone has questions send me a Pm or drop a review and I'll explain what I can. **

**Thank you all so much for you time. Its been a pleasure writing for you all.**


	17. Notes and References

**Author's Notes: These are I guess what you could consider special features. My writen notes for reference in my writing, most of which is Celenes annoyingly complex character. This is what would be her in game kit, complete with numbers. Please ignore the balance and such in reviews, that's not what this is for. I just thought it would be cool to see her kit/lines/jokes and special interactions layed out on paper because I've had this sense before I started writing. Her name also used to be faith (hehe) **

Celene

**Pretty interesting kit I think. She is intended to be a hit and run AP mage/assassin, built to chomp ADC's**

Passive:

Every 30 seconds Celene's next basic ability will not consume its cooldown. Using an ability reduces this cooldown by 1 second. Damaging an enemy champion reduces this ability by 2 seconds. Benefits from CDR.

Q – Reform: Range: 500 Cooldown: 6 Cost: 80/60/40/20/0 mana

Teleports Celene a short distance. Can be cast while channeling Tendril Barrage without interrupting its channel.

W – Tangling Wave: Range: 400 Cooldown: 16/14/12/10/8 Cost: 50/70/90/110/130 mana

Snares enemies in a 90-degree cone in front of Celene for 1 second, dealing 60/100/140/180/220 (+0.7 AP) magic damage. If only one enemy is hit, the snare's length is doubled.

E – Tendril Barrage: Range: 400 Cooldown: 10/9/8/7/6 Cost: 30 (+ 4 mana per second)

Celene barrages target enemy with tendrils dealing 30/50/80/100/120 (+0.25 AP) magic damage every second if she remains within 600 range of the target. When the tether is broken, Celene heals for 30/35/40/45/50% of total damage dealt and refreshes the cooldown on Reform.

R – Body Snatch: Range: 775 Cooldown: 120 (begins when the effect ends) Cost: 100/120/140 mana

After a brief (0.5 second Ex: this is not a cast time it is a delay similar to Lux's ult, meaning if you leave its cast range she will follow you.) delay Celene teleports to target enemy champion, suppressing herself and them for 2 seconds dealing.

200/350/500 (+2.0 AP) magic damage. If the target dies while suppressed, Body Snatch becomes a toggle between Celene's basic abilities and its target. 30/45/60 seconds. there Superior stats replace yours for the duration.

Base stats:

Health: 370 (+70 per level)

Health Regen.: 4.5(+0.50 per level)

Mana: 275 (+55 per level)

Mana regen: 7.5 (+0.7 per level)

Attack damage: 45 (+3.6 per level)

Attack speed: 0.7 (+1.5% per level)

Range: 575

Movespeed: 330

Armor: 9 (+3 per level)

Magic resist: 30

Cosmetics: Celene's spells and auto attacks resemble soft, shining blue tendrils, like glowing razor floss. (look it up on tv tropes)

If Tendril Barrage has been channeling for 5 or more seconds, the spell animation becomes more violent and frenzied.

When she steals a body with her ultimate, you get their model with a large mass of tendrils protruding from their back.

When her ultimate collides with an enemy champion, she lets out a scream that can be heard across the field. If she is not in your field of view when her ultimate makes contact, the scream will sound distant and will echo.

Her speech will become more aggressive and bloodthirsty the more kills she gets.

She relaxes her muscles and starts to float upward slowly during a recall.

When Celene dies, a wave of blue tendrils fly from her body towards the nearest champion, only to be blocked by summoner magic.

Her in-game dance is Caramelldansen.

If Celene moves faster then 470 move speed she flies in a manner similar to Kayle.

Her Q and E do not have channel times, allowing her to cast them while running.

Celene reels back with tendrils exploding from her back just before she ults. the attack itself has her forcing the same tendrils into the mouth of the target.

Quotes: Upon Selection:

"Lets walk a mile in there shoes."

Attacking:

"Thought you'd never ask."

"Easy enough."

"Let's see how fast they are."

"Another one..."

"Here we go..."

"Finally..."

"Surprise!"

"You want to see monstrous?!"

"Dance around them!"

"Over their heads."

"'Till one of us dies, but it's not gonna be me!"

"It's only yours so long as you can keep it."

"Fun."

"No one lives forever."

"No where to go."

"Lets take the strife to them."

"Before you know it."

Movement:

"Over there?"

"I trust you."

"Formlessly."

"I like that idea."

"I'm glad we understand each other, Summoner."

"Eternity's wings carry me."

"Like a ghost."

"Watch my back, Summoner."

"See anybody?"

"Got my eyes open."

"Up, over, behind and around."

"Keep the element of surprise, Summoner."

"Ugh, you're more predictable than they are."

"shhh"

"Whats yours is mine."

"Define, you."

"An interesting idea of peace; but fun."

Sigh* "Finally i can be myself."

After using Reform to avoid an enemy ability:

"HA!"

"Too slow!"

"So predictable."

"Heh."

When Celene casts Bodysnatch.

"Ready or not!"

"Don't blink."

"Here we go!"

"Here i come!"

"Celene laughs."

After avoiding an ability with Reform with a refreshed cooldown:

"Untouchable!"

"Can't keep up, can you!?"

Joke:

"We're gonna love being each other."

After Swain's joke: "I like his idea"

Taunt:

"What will your family say when I come back wearing your face?"

After a killing spree, when casting a spell or using basic attacks against a Champion:

"More bodies..."

"I want more..."

"Come on, I need this..."

"Allow me to gorge myself"

"Please... hold still"

After scoring 5 kills without dying, when casting a spell or auto attacking a champion:

"More... MORE!"

"YOU CAN'T HOPE TO STOP ME!"

"YESSS, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

"YOU THINK YOU STAND A CHANCE?!"

"I'M DONE WAITING!"

"YESS! FINALLY!"

After scoring a pentakill:

"That's really all? (half chuckle) Oh well."

When Gankplank cleanses her ultimate with his Remove Scurvy (w)

"How the hell does that work?!"

"Oranges! NOOOOOO"

"Well I guess its K"

Upon Recalling:

(Relaxed sigh)

"-sigh- I needed this…"

(yawn)

Upon coming within 1700 range of Vayne, for the first time in a match:

"Ever faced a TRUE monster, Nighthunter?"

"This should be pretty interesting."

Upon coming within 1700 range of Katarina, for the first time in a match:

"You and me are just the same, Sinister Blade. We both enjoy who we are."

"When your daddy comes back, do you think he'll notice my eyes behind yours?"

Upon coming within 1700 range of Nocturne, for the first time in a match:

"Boo."

"Which of us is scarier?"

Likes/dislikes

Likes: Music, watching people, reading, painting, combat (though she's never been spotted practicing) hextech and technology, interesting/complicated people.

Dislikes: questions, invasions of her space, spicy food, snow, smoking.

**Height and weight references used in writing, these are not canon so take them with a grain of salt.**

Beyal: 5'8 190lb

Wiles: 5'11 167lb

Katharine: 5'3 180lb

Werhan: 5'10 230lb

Jura: 6'1 175lb

Marten: 6'5 190lb

Celene: 4'11 108lb

Katarina 5'10 178lb

Riven 5'10.5 189lb

Garen 6'8 318lb

Caitlyn 5'7 159lb

Lux 5'5 148lb

Swain 6'1 183lb

Syndra 5'4 163lb

Ahri 5'6 178lb

Akali 5'7 181lb

Sona 5'3 175lb


End file.
